The Emerald Prince
by Sparkypotter101
Summary: After 10 years of abuse, Harry is a heartless husk incapable of mercy. Follow a very different Harry through year one as he dominates his house, Hogwarts, and a certain blond. Dark! Powerful! Harry. Rated M for torture, rape, adult language, and other adult content. This story should not be taken lightly. Slash. On Hiatus! If someone urgently wants to adopt, PM me.
1. Year 1: Birthright

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**After 10 years of abuse, Harry is a heartless husk incapable of mercy. Follow a very different Harry through year one as he dominates his house, Hogwarts, and a certain blond. Dark! Powerful! Harry. Rated M for torture, rape, adult language, and other adult content. This story should not be taken lightly. Slash.**

Birthright

Cold wind hisses and screams over the stormy waves, spraying icy water through the darkness. Clouds darken, thickening, and lightening cuts across the sky in jagged lines like a cosmic knife,slashing the sky. The boom of thunder shakes the heavens, and the crash of the waves drowns out all but the loudest of noises. It is in the midst of this frigid hell that I find myself.

Go figure.

It does seem like me to get stuck in a situation like this; it certainly suits me - as the devil-spawn I am it only makes sense that I should live in a nightmare such as this. Or so my relatives would have you believe. Oh yes, my dearest auntie and uncle are most convinced that I am the child of Satan, and I must admit that my behaviour does nothing to sway them from this notion. Far from it - I think my bone-chilling stares and soul-sucking demeanour encourages them.

They think me evil, I suppose, which is what protects me from the abuse they layered on me in my youngest years. I do not agree with them - I am merely powerful, and they cannot understand my power. People fear what they do not know, I have been told, but it does not hold true for me. After all, my thirst for knowledge is famous at the primary schools I have drained dry.

No, the Dursley's might think me evil, might cower in fear, but I do not believe in their conviction. I am merely vengeful. Who can blame me - a child raised without love is hardly a child at all. So realistically, they deserve whatever I have given them. Or that is what I tell them when they whimper in fear, terrified just by my gaze. It took me but a week to break them, and they have not hurt me since.

And yet somehow, even in their utmost fear, they have managed to drag me here without incurring my wrath. Quite a feat really, to stave off my questions and withhold my letters without me demonstrating my displeasure. I would be impressed, but I find it hard to feel anything for such worms. They are not worth my emotion.

So I find myself here, in a ramshackle hut in the middle of nowhere, bored, cold and alone on my birthday eve. Not that it upsets me. I would never be so weak as to show such human faults. The tacky watch that adorns my wrist beeps softly - my birthday has arrived. I am contemplating my predicament, trapped on an island with my pathetic attempt at a family, when the door facing me promptly decides to implode. How interesting.

A huge, haggard figure bursts forth into the dim light of this disgusting hovel. He barely fits inside, which somehow leads me to reevaluate the quality of this shithole, but before I get the chance he smiles. "Sorry 'bout that." He turns around and lifts up the door he knocked down, propping it back up into the door frame. He must be immensely strong; that door was solid hardwood. Well for someone so large it makes sense to be physically strong.

Uncle Vernon looks livid, but a glance from his dear demon-nephew soon shuts him up. As I had hoped. He won't interfere, so I opt to wait for the giant man to make the first move. He squirms uncomfortably before my emerald glare, then smiles at me and starts to talk.

* * *

Approximately 2 hours later, I'm finally satisfied with Hagrid's information. I am Harry Potter, wizard, boy-who-lived and saviour of the wizarding world. How… annoying. I am sure the attention will garner me some easy allies, but I am not one for fanboys and winning people over by a death I caused at the age of 1 isn't exactly impressive to me. Oh well.

Hagrid seemed surprised at how readily I accepted magic, and then he got very angry when he learned I had been… misinformed… about my parents. Very angry. Even more so when Vernon spoke up against the school - Hogwarts, was it? - and one Albus Dumbledore, a 'crackpot old fool'. Yes, Hagrid was angry, and so was I. From the way Vernon is cowering in the corner, he should be overjoyed that I will be leaving tomorrow. He has up until next July to write his will.

* * *

Diagon Alley is immensely interesting. More so than any other place I have visited, in my opinion. Shrieks and whoops fill the air, the cacophony of exuberant children mingling with the screeches of owls and the thrum of daily wizarding life. The shops and stores assault my senses - sights and sounds and smells so overwhelming I am almost tempted to smile genuinely. Of course, I have been wearing the mask of an innocent child all morning. It seems to calm Hagrid, and I wouldn't want him to become distressed. Who knows what a hyperventilating half-giant (according to Hagrid himself) would do?

Hagrid marches headlong through the throng, and I trail along behind him, easily delivered through the frothing masses as I stroll along in the wake Hagrid leaves behind him. I am glad that I took Hagrid's advice to wear a hood. Already my keen ears have overheard whispers, rumours that I, the great Harry Potter, have finally returned to the wizarding world. The people seem starved for information. I wonder what they were told about my whereabouts? Probably just that I was left with family. That's what I would have told them.

We reach Gringotts, a proud white marble structure, and Hagrid leads me past the engraved doors and into the bank itself. Goblins, according to Hagrid, run this establishment, and I must say that the little creatures look fantastically cruel. Evil bankers. How cliche. I allow my mask to slip, and my innocence seems to drain away, leaving me looking a little older and colder in preparation of my meeting with the goblins.

Hagrid continues to plow forward, forcing me to follow him to one of the glistening counters. A particularly haughty goblin sneers down at me from the counter, and while Hagrid is distracted talking to the ugly being, I flash him an unshielded glare. I am rewarded with widened eyes and.. a hint of approval? Yes, goblins are most definitely dark at heart.

* * *

My vault is, undoubtedly, large and full of golden coins, but I find it not fitting with Hagrid's descriptions of my family. When I mention this to the goblin, Griphook, he informs me that this is just a trust vault and that I will only be able to access the Potter vault at 17, or if I become emancipated, by, for example, taking up position as Head of the Ancient House of Potter, as is my right, at the age of 15. Slightly annoying, but the money in this trust is enough to fund my education ten times over. I will not need to settle for less than best.

Hagrid stops to collect something, a small package, and he tells me it is important. And then he puts it in his pocket. His. Pocket. It's just begging to be stolen. So, naturally, Hagrid will be rather distressed at the end of the day when he finds whatever it was missing. I might not even want it, but it could be useful and this might be only chance to obtain it. Hagrid should really be more careful, I think, as I smirk inwardly.

* * *

Hagrid offered to take me around personally, but I reject him politely, still keeping up the charade of innocence. He will meet me in the Leaky Cauldron for dinner, but I will get lunch myself. He seems reluctant to let me out of his sight, but I assure him I can handle myself. Finally, I get away from the lumbering oaf of a man.

As soon as Hagrid is out of sight, I head out into the crowd. Finding a specialist luggage shop, I enter quietly. I approach the counter, throwing a dazzling smile at the man behind it. I have been told that I am the most adorable boy anyone has ever seen, but then again, I have also been told I am Lucifer's child. Somehow, my mind has found a way to agree with both statements.

"Hello. I'm new to the wizarding world, but I need the best trunk I can get. Money isn't an issue. Thank you." I speak a little quietly, acting the shy new kid perfectly. I can practically see his heart melt in his chest. Weak little man.

"Are you sure? They can get quite expensive?" At my nod, he continues. "Ok then. Well, the best trunk I have here is…" he pulls a pure white wooden trunk, polished and a decent size, up onto the counter. "...this one. It only has one compartment, but that is all you will need. The compartment is a fully furnished apartment, with bathroom, bedroom, living room, kitchen, library, and some other utility rooms - a training room, a potions lab, and a storage space. The storage space is a self-sorting pocket dimension,so just throw in whatever and it will be organised and stored away. The bedroom has a similar setup with the wardrobe - it's infinitely expandable, and it shows you whichever clothes you ask for. The library is also infinitely expandable, and it will show you any book you ask for based on what you ask - subject, author, title - and what you have in the library. There are some other features that I am sure you will find on your own, since it would probably take all day to list them."

The man seems rather excited at the idea of selling the trunk, and he continues. "The trunk itself is warded against everyone but its owner - only you will ever be able to open it, and no one can enter it without your permission. It doesn't need a password, key, anything; it just opens when you want it to. Finally, the whole trunk is furnished in white, completely. To change the colour of anything, simply tap your wand to it and visualise the colour you wish it to become. That only works once. So, you want it?" The shop owner gestures to the trunk.

I smile sweetly at him. Of course I want the trunk.

* * *

Trunk shrunken and featherlight in my newly bought black backpack, warded against anyone who isn't me, I continue shopping. An hour later, and all my potion supplies and equipment are bought. I spent 10 minutes mentally discussing if I needed a self-stirring, heat-adjustable, fully automated brewing set that can produce 10 potions at once if needed, and I decided the investment was worthwhile. I also have my astronomy equipment (a telescope), and my writing materials. On a whim I bought a dictate-a-quill and a journal, just so I can write any research notes in it. And the dictate-a-quill will be really useful in class, when I can focus on the work while it writes down my notes in full for me. Magic is rather useful, I must admit. Lastly, I bought some pranking materials, not because I actually want to prank people but because I need something to use as a basis for the torture equipment I am sure to develop during my time at Hogwarts.

How do they expect me not to?

* * *

Flourish and Blotts is really rather brilliant, a positive plethora of knowledge waiting for me, and I buy every book in the shop. It might sound expensive and overkill, but I read fast. Very fast. I have an eidetic memory, so reading a full book can take as little time as five minutes. Well, maybe it's not eidetic, because I think they have to read the book to get the information. Me, I just look at the page. I guess it must just be one of my magical powers. I wonder if everyone magical can do that, but surely not because then people would just come quickly read the books in Flourish and Blotts instead of buying them. Hmmm… I shall have to research this, and my ability to speak to snakes. I don't know if that is entirely normal here either. Probably not - I am not entirely normal, or normal in any way, shape or form. Really, just abnormal.

Anyway, back to buying every book in the shop. After all this, I realise I am still wearing my 'muggle' clothes. I hate these filthy peasant clothes, the best that Vernon could afford yet not good enough for my aristocratic tastes. Fear can't do everything, as I learned that it did at least get me out of those horrendous hand-me-down rags of Dudley's. Thank Satan.

After noticing my disgustingly middle-class attire, I immediately locate the nearest tailor. Madame Malkin's. It looks nice, high class even. I enter and before I know it I'm being measured for a new wardrobe. Everything from dragonhide boots to acromantula silk underwear, only the best is what I told the Madame. Despite the fact I don't even know what an acromantula is.

Regardless.

I've been stood still for a few minutes, tape measures buzzing wildly around me like a hive of bees, when an aristocratic-looking family with cold, pale features and platinum blond hair walk in. The boy, who looks to be around my age, winds up stood next to me. He is beautifully cold, like a snowflake, all ice and perfection. Just my style. We lock eyes.

"Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy. And you are?" the boy, Draco, asks politely.

"Harry Potter. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." I bow slightly to him and shake his hand. Charm, here, is the right course of action if I am to court this beautiful creature. Which, obviously, is my intention since I now know that he is a first year like me, thanks to Madame Malkin. Meaning he is available to me, meaning that he is already mine. Even if he doesn't know it yet.

Did I mention that the Dursley's said I was insane, too?

* * *

My meeting with Draco was short, but pleasant. We exchanged small talk for a while, and other meaningless pleasantries, and then I finished my business, made my goodbyes, and left. I can tell now, from the memories of it all, that Draco was obviously pleased and surprised. Why, I don't know - he didn't seem to care about me being Harry Potter, but then again his masks were almost as good as mine… It doesn't matter. Whatever his reasons, he will be mine and he will like it. Because I always get what I want.

Speaking of what I want, I want a wand. The last thing on my list, and the most important. Hagrid recommended Ollivanders earlier, and it is the only wandmakers I can find, so I enter the shop. A chime rings out, alerting Mr. Ollivander of my presence. He speeds towards me through the shop, a mess of white hair and crazed eyes. Maybe there are people as crazy as me, after all. But they don't know how to use masks.

Ollivander squints at me, mutters, then rushes off and grabs a stack of boxes, thrusting them at me. I take a wand from the first, and, when he looks expectant, wave it. A box explodes. Not that one, then. And so it goes on, me destroying more and more with every wrong wand. Ollivander gets more excited with every wand, almost wetting himself when a holly and phoenix feather wand disintegrates as I touch it.

Finally, Ollivander picks up a silver box, interwoven with lines of red. Taking the wand slowly, cautious, I wave it. It feels so… right, and red and silver sparks fly out of the end of the wand. Ollivander claps ecstatically, then explains.

"That, Mr Potter, is the rarest wand I have. It is made from oak, which symbolizes strength, and has a core of Ashwinder fang. That is the only wand I have ever made with Ashwinder, they are so rare and difficult to harvest due to their fiery nature." I nod, unsure why this is important. "I cannot say for certain about anything Mr Potter, but I will expect great things from you."

I pay for the wand and leave, thinking.

* * *

When I meet Hagrid at the Leaky Cauldron, he gives me a belated birthday present in the form of a midnight black owl. Hagrid explains that she is a mutation, unique, and I call her Sombra, shadow. It is a fitting name - she is a dark shadow of an owl, and like a shadow, she is unique. I hug Hagrid - perhaps even a tiny part genuinely - and then we talk and eat. After that, I retire to my trunk so I can read. I need to learn everything about wizardry.

It is my birthright.

**AN: Enjoy guys! This was originally two chapters but it was too short soo… :) Please, please, review! Thanks guys!**


	2. Year 1: Beginnings

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for your support guys, keep reading!**

Beginnings

Scarlet metal shines in the harsh glare of the sun; families rush madly around the train, kissing goodbyes and bidding farewells. I don't have anyone here to see me off, of course. My uncle and aunt are probably only just getting back to Privet Drive about now, and with Hagrid off on 'official Hogwarts business' I am left here to wait, alone.

Not that I mind.

My first act of the school year is to commandeer a compartment for myself. It wouldn't do to sit with the common scragglers, now would it? I am far too regal to stoop that low. Although it does serve to isolate me… maybe I should be less judging? No. That would be a weakness, accommodating others. They should change for me, not vice versa.

The train itself was beautiful - red and gold, highly polished and shining like a star in the bright sunlight. I am not normally so romantical - it wouldn't be wise to sit and contemplate beauty every day - but on this day of excitement I feel I can allow myself some childish joy. However ridiculous it may be, I am excited.

As I sit here waiting for the train to leave, I contemplate what I have learned so far. I read a number of books last night - the number being around 50 - and I have learned a great deal about the wizarding world and its culture. Blood purity, for example, interests me. I will need to research for myself if it holds any merit, since it would not do for me to be in any way inferior. I myself am a 'half-blood', because my mother was muggle-born. Of course, if there is any inferiority because of her, there are ways to get around blood purity. Rituals, blood adoptions, and so on. But until that day, I will research the theory for myself.

Pureblood culture itself fascinates me - I find the arranged marriages repulsive of course, but the strict social codes and extensive faux pas' are enough to garner my interest. It seems so easy to offend a pureblood, it is little wonder why they are so strongly opposed to the muggleborn and muggle-raised. Yes, that might be a problem, but after a little display of power I am sure they will change their minds about blood purity. Even if it is only temporary.

I don't expect to commit any social sins, however. I have read more about this than other subjects, and I am rather well versed in pureblood society and customs, even after only one night. For example, I am well aware that the Malfoy's are a highly esteemed, if Dark, family. Very wealthy. Very powerful. Which of course has only increased the need to court Draco myself.

Speaking of which, I learned last night that although the wizarding world has some prejudices, it doesn't bother with others. Homosexuality is, if not normal, accepted, in pureblood society - so long as one of the couple births an heir. Which may sound difficult, especially for male couples, but apparently male pregnancies actually exist in this world! Who'd have thought? Well, I certainly won't be giving birth, but that won't stop my partner.

Oh, I'm rambling. No matter. As well as studying the world of pureblood, I have read all of my textbooks for this year. They seem ridiculously easy and far below my level of power, which will be annoying for me. Once again, I will be forced to pretend to be weak. I was all set to pull of a mask, but now I will need to put on one. How irritating. I haven't practiced anything yet - I simply didn't have the time - but it is good to know the material already. It should be ridiculously simple when I get around to the actual wand-waving.  
Another type of magic that interests me is Dark Magic. It seems to be strictly prohibited and all but illegal, with some areas completely blocked off by the 'Ministry'. Not that they will stop me from performing rituals in the dead of night - how the hell would they know what I was up to? But yes, the Dark Arts are very interesting, with rituals, curses, jinxes, hexes, elemental magic, illegal potions… the list goes on and on. Experimental breeding sounds interesting too… I could make some very powerful little pets that way, with enough time and knowledge.

Ancient Runes is interesting, even if we have to wait until 3rd year for it. That won't stop me studying it early. And the same can be said of Arithmancy. Spell manufacture looks highly useful, and it would be very helpful. I wonder if Alchemy will be taught for my year, it looks to be -

I am jolted from my thoughts as the train starts moving. I look up, only to see a redheaded boy and a bushy haired girl walk into my compartment. They look at me, surprised - obviously they thought this compartment was empty. The boy speaks up.  
"Erm… Hi? Do you mind if we sit in here? All the other compartments have older kids in." He looks nervous, never meeting my eyes as he speaks.

"No, I don't mind. Sit." I command. I actually do mind; the boy looks shabby, with dirt on his face and hand-me-down robes, but the girl is alright. She looks intelligent, in a top-of-the-class kind of way. Absently, I wonder if she will be annoyed when I beat her.  
They sit down, the boy still looking nervous but the girl looking.. pleased? What a strange thing to feel when you are sat in a compartment with me and red-head. The girl raises a hand, intending for me to shake it. I raise an eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you. And you are?" She looks at me pointedly. I take her hand, turn it over and kiss the back of it lightly. That is what the pureblood books agree is proper social conduct, but from the happy surprise on the girls face I can almost tell that she is muggleborn. "Harry Potter. Pleased to make your acquaintance."  
I turn to the redhead, ignoring the astonished looks on both of their faces at my name.  
"Care to introduce yourself?"

The boy gulps, obviously even more nervous. Oh great, a fanboy. I sigh. "Er… Ron. Ron Weasley. Are you really Harry Potter?" I nod, annoyed.

"Do you have the…" he trails off.

"The what?" I snap.

"The scar." he says meekly. "You know, on your forehead."

Fucking fantastic, he wants to see a shallow cut on my forehead to kickstart this friendship. God, I am not going to put up with this fanaticism at the school. "Yes, now can you stop with the whole 'Harry Potter' routine? It's rather irritating to be famous based on surviving your families slaughter." He pales considerably and shuts up.

There are a few minutes of awkward silence, then Hermione looks at me.

"Have you practiced any spells yet?" At the shake of my head, she continues. "I've done a few small ones, but they've all worked well for me. Why don't you try one?"

I blink at her sudden request, surprised. Why not? It would be a good show of power, and might win over a potentially useful ally. I've already given up on the Weasley boy. I flick my wand out of its holster into my hand. Hermione looks shocked at the appearance of my wand, but she says nothing. I imagine she is making a mental note to buy a holster.  
I raise my wand, and try to think of a spell that will impress her. I eye her frizzy hair and large front teeth carefully. I wave my wand in a slow arc ending with a soft flick, muttering under my breath. "Mollis crispum, dentes reformidant." A pale pink glow caresses her hair, and it slowly softens and curls. Her teeth shrink slightly and shift a little to a perfect position, and she winces in discomfort for a few seconds. She looks up, and I wave my wand to conjure a mirror for her. This is much easier than I had thought, I must admit. I was resigned to actually putting in some effort, but apparently that isn't needed.

Hermione studies her appearance for a few seconds, then launches herself at me. Before I even comprehend what has happened, I am smothered by her body as she hugs me tightly. Normally I would push someone off if they attempted to hug me, but her touch is not unpleasant so I allow her to cling to me. After a few minutes of vicious hugging, she releases me and sits back down, looking embarrassed. "Sorry about that. Thank you so much! I always have trouble with my hair, and it looks beautiful! And my teeth - my parents are dentists but they couldn't do anything about them, but you…" she trails off, apparently overcome with emotion. Ron snorts, and I jolt in my seat - I'd forgotten that he was even here.

"You're welcome. That was actually really easy, and I found it in a book on beauty care that I skimmed through." By skimmed through, I actually mean memorised, but with my memory they are one and the same. "I can lend it to you if you want."

Hermione nods happily. "That would be great, thanks. So anyway, are you excited about Hogwarts? I am - my parents are muggles so its the first time anyone in my family has ever been. What about you, are you a muggleborn? Oh, what house do you want to be in?" She gasps for breath, and I take my chance to answer the barrage of questions.  
"Sort of, I'm a half blood, Slytherin." I watch as her mind works backwards through the answers. Ron suddenly jumps up out of his vegetative state.

"Slytherin?! But you're Harry Potter! Slytherin is for dark wizards!" He seems enraged.

"And what's wrong with that? Dark magic isn't illegal completely, and I find it rather interesting. So yes, I want to be in Slytherin. Deal with it."

Ron looks even angrier, and he opens his mouth to speak when Draco finally flounces in to the compartment with two other boys. "Hello Draco." I incline my head to him and the other two. Ron, upon seeing me greet Draco, flounders for a second then storms out in a rage. His face was almost as red as his hair, I note amusedly.

I look at Draco. "Well now that Weasley has been disposed of, would you care to introduce me to your friends?" Draco has the manners to blush.

"My apologies. This is Blaise Zabini..." he indicates the dark boy stood to his left. "...And this is Theodore Nott..." he indicates the boy with sandy hair on his right. They both smile.

"Pleasure to meet you both. I am Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger." The smiles leave their faces at the mention of the muggleborn. A wonderful example of blood purity prejudice.

"Oh... Harry, why are you sat with a... mudblood?" Draco half whispers to me.

"Sit. I need to ask you all something." They sit. Hermione looked angry, but now she seems curious as to what I am doing. "I need to understand the blood purity theory. According to it, pureblood's have stronger magic than half-bloods and 'mudbloods'. Is that right?"

The three boys nod, but Draco adds something else. "It isn't just that though. They have no appreciation for our culture. They bring in muggle culture and ruin pureblood culture - they are vandalising the wizarding world!" He glares at Hermione like she is some kind of hoodlum. I find the whole thing rather amusing, although Hermione obviously doesn't.  
"Fair enough. Now, what if I told you that I am a muggle-raised half-blood. You would assume me to be weak and uneducated, yes?" Draco nods uncomfortably, obviously not happy with the thought of having a dumb, pathetic friend. As he should be.

I wave my wand, conjuring a bird out of the air, and then put on a show of shrinking it, changing its colour, species, etc, all non-verbally. I then flick my wand, and the bird explodes into a miniature firework, gone. "Now what do you think? I am stronger and smarter than the three of you put together, and Hermione over there is highly intelligent and, from what she has told me, powerful enough. Blood does not matter, only magic. And if I deem Hermione worthy of my time, so should you, regardless of her heritage. Although I will admit that Hermione requires an education in pureblood culture." I flick my wand and a book zooms towards her from my trunk. "There, read that. That book is enough to make you act as pureblood end as Draco here."

* * *

Half an hour later, and the pureblood issue is forgotten. Draco and the others have accepted Hermione, or so it seems, and she has forgotten their prejudice. In fact, she seems rather interested in Blaise. I wonder if she has a crush on him? Well that won't do, I can't have her distracted, she'll be nowhere near as useful. Plus, I was planning on keeping Blaise and Teddy for myself. No rule against having more than one in my book.  
Draco and Teddy are playing exploding snap, and Blaise is helping Hermione read through the book I gave her, answering her questions, so I sit back and sink into the plush seat to think once again.

Draco. Draco is mine. That much is definite in my mind, because Draco is the first and the best. Rich, powerful, beautiful - he has it all. Or he will have, by the time he is of age. So there really isn't much to question. I have a plan of course, but it might even get pushed forward after that little show of subtle loyalty. I don't know Draco very well, or really at all, but I can tell that if I was someone else there is no way he would have listened to me about blood purity. Why he did, I'm not sure, but I have an idea. But it doesn't really matter why. Moving on...

Blaise. Blaise is good looking, definitely, and I can tell that he wil grow into the whole 'darkly handsome and mysterious' thing. And he seems smart enough, enough to attract Hermione. Add to that his social standing and political power as a Zabini, and it is clear he will be joining me. Whether he knows it or not. He does seem loyal to Draco, which could be good or bad, I suppose, so I assume that they are close friends. Their families probably have an alliance.

And lastly, Teddy. That's what he asked me to call him instead of Theodore, and it's cute enough. He still seems a little childish, needs to grow up, but he still has what I'm looking for. Intelligent, pretty, social standing a bit too dark but good enough... Yes, Theodore Nott is the newest member of my reverse harem. At least, in my mind he is.

* * *

McGonagall is still going on about the houses and their rules, characteristics, etc. I get the feeling this is the same speech she gives every year, so I tune it out. I only realise she left when the children around me start talking in hushed voices, predictably overwhelmed by the reality of the castle. I can't really blame them - even I was hushed by the breathtaking sight from the lake. Our boat was extra crowded, since we got Hermione to sit by my feet so we could all fit in, but all of that was forgotten when Hogwarts came into view. It really is magnificent.

The voices murmur a bit louder, and then my field of vision is suddenly obscured by a flash of red. I blink wildly, confused (though I loathe to admit it) and then realise that Ron has just threw himself at Draco. Of course, I had read about their blood feud (ridiculous in my opinion, to fight over something no one can remember), but I hadn't realised it would manifest like this. Neither did Draco, apparently, as he is floored by the raging red-head.  
I pull my wand almost lazily as Ron pummels Draco, and flick it with a hint of boredom. It is my intention to look casually powerful, after all.

Suddenly, the entire group is laughing. A bright red pig, formerly Ron Weasley, is currently rolling around on the floor. Draco stands up, and Blaise helps him brush off the dust. Again, I wave my wand and his nose stops bleeding. I get a fair few awed looks, but I ignore them. I flick my wand again as I hear McGonnagall just outside, and the pig is Ron by the time she turns the corner. I am glad that Weasley has the good sense not to tattle.

"This way please, the sorting ceremony is about to start."

**AN: Follow, Favourite and Review! Suggestions especially welcome.**


	3. Year 1: Beautiful

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the views guys, but I would appreciate some more reviews please! Anywho, this chapter should get the ball rolling a little faster. Enjoy!**

Beautiful

The ceiling is quite interesting, as Hermione points out to me, but it really doesn't require a lecture. I tell her as much, and smile maliciously to myself when she promptly bites her tongue and turns red. She really needs to cull that habit; it's rather irritating, especially when I already know what she is trying to tell me. She still doesn't seem to believe that I am more intelligent than her, but it is no matter. She knows for a fact that I am more powerful, it is only a matter of time before she realises the truth. And if she doesn't, at least she won't appreciate being bested in every class.

I smirk to myself.

The group of first years that I, reluctantly, am a part of shuffles up to the front of the great hall. The the other children, bar those who I assume will join me in Slytherin, seem uncomfortable with the stares we receive. While I dislike the reason for my fame, I still enjoy the influence it clearly already has, and I feel no measure of discomfort. I always seem to be stared at, anyway, either for the 'adorability' of my innocent mask, or for the pure coldness of my true self. Either way.

McGonnagall drones again for a second, and then the ceremony begins in earnest as the hat, which is rather shabby and ancient-looking, bursts into a vibrant song. After a round of applause, it begins to sort. I vaguely commit to memory who joins which house - with my brain, all I really have to do is watch and I won't forget. Hermione is the first of my 'friends' to be sorted, and as I knew it would my influence pushes her into Slytherin. The whole hall seems shocked, but they quickly get over it. Hermione receives no small number of glares as she sits down, however, which is something I will need to rectify as soon as possible. It wouldn't do for her emotions to overcome her.

Draco and Theodore are sorted almost immediately into Slytherin, and I notice that Draco's family appointed bodyguards somehow end up in Hufflepuff. They do look useless, I suppose, and perhaps their loyalty to Draco is their only major factor. I cannot be sure, but it is of little interest to me so I drop my train of thought.

"Harry Potter." McGonnagall calls my name, and it rings throughout the hall. As the whispers rise and be one louder, I push my way through the dwindling crowd of children, and stride purposefully towards the hat. I lift it, trying not to get dirt on my hands, and rest it gently on my head so it doesn't fall over my eyes. Honestly, what kind of imbecile would allow themselves to look that idiotic in front of anyone?

I am just wondering to myself how this ratty wizardswear is supposed to sort anything when I hear a low chuckling in the back of my mind. The chuckling slows, then I hear a small, gravelly voice inside my head. "Oh, you are an interesting one. And so powerful! You know, you really are quite the extraordinary boy." I know, I think quite smugly, but will you sort me now? I don't have time to waste idly chatting with crumpled old headwear. "Oh fine, fine. Hmmm... Well I can tell right away that Hufflepuff is out. No loyalty, none. A possessive nature to protect the people that 'belong' to you, yes, but no loyalty." I sigh inaudibly, relieved. I did not want to go to Hufflepuff - loyalty is useful for me to control, but I don't want to be loyal, I want to command loyalty. "Yes, you are rather self-serving. I suppose that stops you from going to Gryffindor too, despite your bravery. You aren't exactly the hero type." I agree, I am really not. Yes, I will protect my 'friends' but... "Hah! Friends. I can see into your head you know, Mr. Potter, and I know as well as you that they are more like followers. Regardless, that leaves Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You have a wonderful mind, it's true, but you are far more cunning and devious than a common book-worm. If not Ravenclaw, it'll have to be..."

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouts out loud, finally. I have the feeling that he knew all along where I would go, he just wanted to drag it out. I remove the hat, a little more carefully now I am sure that it is sentient, and place it back on the chair. Ignoring the uproar around me, I walk to the Slytherin table and sit next to Draco and Hermione, facing Theodore and a space saved for Blaise, and another girl... Pansy Parkinson, I remember correctly.

Of course, I was expecting the panic - I am supposed to be the wizarding world's golden boy, and yet here I am in the most... unsavoury... House. No surprise that they are shocked, I wouldn't expect it either if I wasn't me. But I am, so I did, and right now I find the Gryffindor's outraged shouting to be rather amusing. The Slytherin's seem to be in a state of shock, but the Prefects welcome me and they soon snap out of it. I will no doubt receive countless propositions from them in the coming weeks, and I will have my pick and choose. It will be easy.

Ron is of course placed into Gryffindor, no surprise, and he goes to sit with his brothers. Fred and George, I seem to somehow remember overhearing, are the famous school pranksters who have a knack for developing new products. They are also quite attractive, I note. Nothing like Ron, really. Despite the obvious similarities - red hair, hand-me-down robes. But robes can be bought, and they happen to suit red hair a lot better. Hmm.. Maybe I will... befriend... them. They will no doubt be useful - I'm sure with a little encouragement their pranks could become a lot more... dangerous. I smile wickedly to myself, earning a few looks from the other Slytherin's.

Blaise sitting down makes me lose my train of thought, just in time to watch the Headmaster stand from his seat. He waves his wand subtly, and the hall falls silent. Mass compulsion charm, I notice with malicious glee. The headmaster may be the Light's figurehead, but he is just as manipulative as we Slytherin's.  
He makes a small speech, during which I catch him eying me with barely concealed interest, about the forbidden forest and Filch, the caretaker, and his list of banned items. He ends with something interesting, warning everyone not to visit the third floor corridor unless "you wish to die a most painful death." Naturally, I will go there as soon as I get the chance to slip away. My curiosity does get the better of me, but I highly doubt I can't handle whatever it is.

* * *

The feast was delicious and filling, much better than the food at the Dursleys, and I head to the common room with a full stomach and tired eyes. Even I need to sleep, for now at least. Maybe I can find something to dispatch of that potential weakness later.

The other Slytherin first years look excited to see the common room; I can see it in the way they talk in hushed tones, eyes full of wonder. I can even understand why - even for a pureblood, a luscious common room hidden away in the dungeons below the lake is a wondrous thing. Very stylish and sophisticated. Hermione is still being somewhat stared at, but not so much when I shoot glares at anyone who thinks to say anything.

The prefect, I don't know his name, speaks the password - serpent's secret - and we crowd into the common room. It really is very nice, with lovely green lighting and soft black leather furniture. There are multiple tables made of polished obsidian, and green and silver chairs are scattered around the room. The fire is green, a nice touch, and portraits of famous Slytherin's hang from the wall. There is a conspicuous gap in the decoration where a portrait of Tom Riddle (according to the plaque) used to hang. I wonder vacantly why it was removed. Skylights open up above to the lake, and a few charmed windows show underwater views. The altogether effect is lovely, as lovely as high class pureblood extravagance can be. A number of doors lead off from the main room, and the prefect informs us they lead to Professor Snape's office, the girls and boys dormitories, a potions lab and training room, and back outside, among other things. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't, and no one presses for details.

Done with his little introduction speech, he departs for his dorm. We stand there for a few minutes in an appreciative silence, before all hell breaks loose. Figuratively, of course. Pansy Parkinson, the girl who sat with us earlier, stomps over to me and Hermione, bypassing Draco and the boys. A glint of fury dances dangerously in her eyes, and I can already tell this is going to be fun. For me, that is.

Whirling on Hermione, she proceeds to start squawking. How irritating.  
"I can't believe they let you come here, Granger! This place is sacred to true Slytherin's, us pureblood's! Salazar would be rolling in his grave if he knew we let in a filthy mud-"

No sooner is the word beginning to fall when I pull my wand. "That. Is. One. Step. Too. Far." I grind out, pushing Pansy back with the tip of my wand. "No one damages my property. From onow on, Hermione is under my protection. She is my friend - she belongs to me. And just in case you forget, this can be a reminder."

I slash at her with the wand, and she cries out and crumples to the floor. Stepping over her, I turn to the other first years. "Isn't it a good thing that the other years are still at the feast?" I sneer. My face turns cold, and I know they feel like they just stepped into the arctic circle. "You will tell no one of this. If you do, well... " I gesture towards Pansy. I turn back to them, examining their reactions.

Draco, Blaise and Teddy all look rather awe-struck - they are more interested in my show of power than Pansy's predicament. The same can be said of the other boys, and a few girls. Daphne Greengrass looks a little torn, and Millicent Bulstrode is downright gleeful (she seems to enjoy pain), but one or two girls look uncomfortable and a little scared, even Hermione.

I pull her towards me, and hug her. She bursts into tears. As I stroke her lovely curled hair, courtesy of me, I speak again, allowing some warmth into my voice. "Now I don't normally do this (a lie), but if you don't provoke me you have nothing to fear. Goodnight."

I turn away and walk towards the dormitories, knowing that Draco, Blaise and Teddy will follow. I can hear them talking to the others before they leave, although I don't catch exactly what they say. Probably patching up their social standings, and spinning this into a good thing for them as well. Smart Slytherin's. If they know what's good for them, they'll have asserted that I will protect them, too, and hopefully have made my views on blood purity a little clearer. I know that I have made a hasty mess of this, but I needed to get across my point. Finesse will come later.

I take Hermione to her dorm, which she shares with Daphne, and I walk to mine. The girls have two to a room, whereas it is four for the boys. It is unclear why, but I presume it is because the ones between women are closer? Some drivel like that, most likely. The trio have caught up to me, and they tell me that they picked things up and put them back into place, socially. I have no doubt that my standing has increased majorly - my domination and power was evident, and I am easily at the top of the social ladder here in Slytherin, if only in the first years. I won't try anything with the upper years just yet... that might draw someone's attention. As it is, no one will know about 's are clever and cunning, and they will realise it is better for them to keep this a secret. Even Pansy wouldn't dare disturb the social ladder. To be honest, she will probably try to fall in with me to climb back up it. We will see.

I fall into my bed, waving my wand to remove my glasses and vanish my clothes, before conjuring my pyjamas. The others wish me goodnight, and I fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

Tomorrow finds me laid in bed reading. I woke at five, as usual, and climbed into my trunk to retrieve my textbooks. The trunk is lovely - I spent most of my time on the night with Hagrid changing the decorum. I set a fairly neutral colour scheme - mostly black and white, with hints of silver and emerald green. A little narcissistic I guess, matching my eyes with my trunk, but it doesn't bother me. The trunk layout is beautiful, the decor stylish, and it is organised flawlessly. I made use of the library immediately of course; the book that allows me to search for anything also allowed me to automatically sort the books by author, name, subject, and so on. I decided to go by subject, and it is rather useful. I also made use of the wardrobe, but I didn't have much to put in the storage. I also set up the potions lab, although I haven't got around to actually brewing anything yet.

After retrieving my textbooks, I laid reading until half past six, which is the time now. I've just finished revising all of my textbooks - even though I memorise everything, it is still good to go over them once or twice to make sure my understanding is complete. I lift the pile of books and place them into my backpack, delighting in the way they become featherlight as they enter it. Magic really is wonderful, much better than Muggle technology.

I lift myself out of bed and pad down to the bathroom. I bought some beauty care products while I was in Diagon Alley, in a shop called 'Belles Créatures', and I intend to test them now. I start with a shower. I massage a skin-softening lotion into my skin as an enchanted brush strokes straightening shampoo into my hair. I wash it out slowly, and scrub off the lotion. I gasp as I rinse, my skin is so sensitive and soft, before stepping out of the shower and drying my hair with a quick charm. A few traces of hair on my legs and arms are quickly vanished away, and then my nails are coated in a shining solution. I gargle a teeth-whitening potion, before coating my lips in strawberry-flavoured swelleing solution. The witch at the counter informed me that a months worth of usage would leave me with permanently fuller lips, and I can see the results as I pout sarcastically at myself in the mirror. Another quick charm darkens my already long eyelashes, and then yet another styles my hair. The morning ritual continues for another five minutes, then I stop to admire my handiwork.

I was always a pretty child, with faintly aristocratic features and messy black hair. But now, I look as good as Draco, perfectly preened and the epitome of pureblood class (despite my actual heritage). Shoulder length, perfectly straight and style black hair frames my flawless skin, my large pink lips almost pouting below my cute, slightly upturned button nose, long, dark eyelashes covering my smouldering emerald eyes to complete the picture. My skin is paler, a luscious cream colour, and my green trimmed robes cover a hairless, catlike body - toned and flexible. I haven't looked at myself in a while, I realise. I look like the perfect heir. Admittedly, there are some flaws - I'm a little short, no doubt from malnourishment caused by the Dursleys in those early years before magic, and my frame is a little bony. But I still look wonderful. I vaguely wonder what Draco will make of this recent development.

**AN: Ok guys, I was going to write more but the story ran away with itself, oops :p Hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come in the next. Keep reading, and please please please write me a review! Thanks guys!**


	4. Year 1: Bastard

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the reviews guys! Also, the favourites and follows, and a massive increase in views! It makes me so happy *sniffles* Anyway, the next chapters should see Harry a little more dark, and maybe some more on his power base. Plans, plans….**

Bastard

Apparently my new appearance has a greater effect than I thought it would. I crept out of the Slytherin common room without any trouble, but the minute I enter the great hall every eye is on me. I don't know if that is the pheromone perfume or just my new looks, but either way it is both pleasing and annoying. It is most fortunate - it will make manipulating people oh so much easier - but it is also a hassle. All this attention makes me stick out like a sore thumb.  
Or maybe it isn't either of my theories. I am the BWL, after all, so maybe I would have gathered so much attention anyway. It doesn't really matter - being famous has its advantages, after all.  
I am just about to bite into a rather delectable looking peach when I am assaulted by a mass of softly curling hair. I pull Hermione off me, and sit her down, before smiling nicely. My emotions might be mute, but I do still have some. I am human, however much I may deny it. Hermione looks me up and down, obviously re-evaluating me. How awfully Slytherin of her. After a few seconds of scrutinising, she beams at me.  
"You look wonderful Harry! Absolutely gorgeous! I remembered the charm for my hair, obviously, but I don't have anything on you. I'd kill for those lips!" She is much too overexcited, I think dully, before smirking at her.  
"Sorry Hermione, but I can't share this with you. Not a charm, I'm afraid, a rather expensive swelling solution. I have to take it for a month to make it permanent. Perhaps I could give you what's left afterwards." I smile mischievously, and she once again dives on me. I extricate myself from her grip, and whisper into her ear.  
"Hermione, while I appreciate the intention you are making a mockery of Slytherin." I try my best not to be too cold, and when she pulls away blushing I can see she is merely embarrassed, not offended. Good. I have no wish to deal with hormonal teenage girls this early in the morning.  
Hermione looks me over again, then questions me about the lack of my glasses' presence. "Eye drops." I say lowly. "Not permanent, only last for a day. Now officially a part of my morning routine." I can tell from her expression she wants to know more about my daily routine, but she holds her tongue and I am in no need to share the information, so the subject drops.  
Me and Hermione have been eating and talking for around twenty minutes when the other first years start to trickle into the hall. Draco sits down, half-asleep, with Blaise and Teddy opposite us, then does a double-take after seeing my new image.  
He gasps, and loses his breath, then blushes and continues on like nothing has happened. I can tell, again, he needs more information, as do the other two boys, but I withhold it. They will ask later, away from the prying eyes in the Great Hall. Before Draco drops his head to eat, however, I catch his eye. I almost blush, despite myself. The lust in his eye is… disconcerting, to say the least. I hadn't expected such a reaction, but it isn't a bad thing either. In fact, this appearance has brought me one step closer to Draco. Perfect.  
Professor Snape, our head of year, delivers our class schedules, and as he leaves he gives me a strange look. Once again, he appears… conflicted? He's hard to read. I look down to my schedule, and I see we have Potions first. Perhaps I will have a chance to ask him about it then.  
I return to my toast with newfound energy.

Snape swirls into the room in a billow of cloaks and begins a pre-made speech I am sure he gives every year, a sneer permanently etched onto his face that softens when he faces the Slytherin's. Favouritism for sure, but I'm not going to complain. Especially not when it's towards me. My dictate-a-quill dutifully copies down his words, presenting them beautifully in clear calligraphy. I am proficient with a quill, but I prefer listening to writing notes. The quill is only here as a front - with my memory, why would I even need notes?  
Snape finishes with a flourish, and I nod. His speech was actually quite impressive, if a bit melodramatic, and I have no doubt that he can do all the things he promises. That I'll stick around to see them is a given - I have no intention of flopping out of any of my classes, especially not something so useful. Potions are brilliant when mixed with alchemy, and they are often used in conjunction with the dark arts, so I have no doubt that I will need this course.  
As Snape begins to read out the register, I eye my surroundings almost cheerfully. Draco and I are partners, of course. He is a self-proclaimed potions prodigy, and while I will no doubt match his pace effortlessly his enthusiasm should provide some amusement to such a solemn affair as potion-making. Draco grins up at me, and I wink back. I can't be heartless and cold constantly - it's unhealthy, and besides, the quickest way to Draco's heart is (through his ribcage) winning it with little shows of affection. Like a dog with a bone. He blushes slightly, proving me right.  
Snape reaches my name, and when I miss him calling it as I lose myself in thought, his confused, torn look flashes to annoyance... and a little bit of sadness, I find myself noticing.  
"Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"  
I answer immediately, yet politely. "Draught of Living Death, sir."  
He nods and looks away, but not before I catch another flicker of sorrow in his dark, almost black, eyes. I know why, of course. 'I bitterly regret Lily's death.' Such an obscure reference too, he must assume me to either be highly intelligent, or he wanted to say it to me without me knowing. Strange.  
I vow to speak to him after class.  
Me and Draco set about making the potion that Snape assigned, and he falls in love with my equipment. He adores the cauldron - solid crystal, enchanted to conduct heat, and charmed with multiple protections and potion enhancers - as well as the less glamorous tidbits, such as the self-stirring rods and my vast array of ingredient preparing equipment. His father wouldn't let him buy anything too flashy, which I find strange, but I promise him that he'll only get the best from me. I can practically hear his heart throb at the romantic nonsense. Although, I can see why - I'm quite the charmer.  
Quickly, we are finished. Our potion is perfect, of course. Hermione's is almost as good, but over on the Gryffindor side of the room at least three cauldrons have already exploded. Idiots. I note with glee that one of the devastated cauldrons belongs to Ron. I wonder how he managed to mess up such a basic potion. Well, at least we can be guaranteed entertainment for the rest of the year.  
After handing in our vials, everyone packs up and leaves. I tell the Slytherin quartet to wait outside for me, and when the door closes I turn to speak with Snape.  
Conflicting emotions flash across his face - sorrow, pride, regret, love, and everything in between. I walk slowly towards him, and then I surprise him with a hug. I've picked up the technique from Hermione, and although I don't actually feel like hugging him I know it will make it easier to win him over. And a loving potions master can be quite useful, in my opinion.  
Gingerly, he hugs me back. "Thank you." I whisper, and he nods. I step back, and he smiles tentatively at me. "You're so much like your mother... I was worried you would be your father incarnate, but you are different - oh so different. Thank Merlin." He sighs. I smile shyly, and then I say goodbye and leave. I can see him smiling after me.  
Salazar, these masks become more and more ridiculous for me.

A week later, and the weekend has begun. Obviously. I sit on one of the black leather sofa's, Draco's head resting in my lap and Blaise and Teddy sat opposite, in similar positions. I lean back into the cool darkness, and think back on the week.  
Lessons have been ridiculously easy, all well below my level of expertise. So far, I have put as little effort in as I can in an attempt to look normal, and more than one of my teachers are still already talking about offering me an apprenticeship. McGonnagall and Flitwick, who teach Transfigurations and Charms, respectively, are both in adoration of me - even though I can tell it conflicts McGonnagall to love a Slytherin. But she does, which is no surprise. I am a dream student, after all.  
Snape and Sprout, the Potions and Herbology professors are less enthusiastic - I don't excel overly in their classes - it is easier to reign in my power when brewing or planting - but I am still top of the class, barring Draco and Neville Longbottom, who is apparently a dab hand at Herbology. Or should that be green finger? Bah. Astrology is supremely simple - I am most definitely head of that class - and I again excel at DADA. Or I would, if Quirrel wasn't such a blubbering idiot. His stutter is fake, obviously, and he is extremely suspicious, not to mention the fact that I can feel huge waves of dark power coming from him. But it doesn't bother me, apart from the occasional twinge in my scar, so I leave him be. It's not like my education is going to suffer; I already know what he is supposedly teaching us.  
The one lesson I do have a passion for is Flying. I absolutely love the sport - the brooms may be a little uncomfortable, but the rush from the wind is just wonderful. Our first lesson had me zooming around the towers, after I saved Neville from a nasty fall with a concealed cushioning charm, and Madam Hooch suggested I try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Which would be amazing if I got picked, even for me - youngest seeker in a century is a goal worth working for. So I have my name down, and my tryout is on Sunday, tomorrow.  
As far as my personal studies go, I have almost completely finished studying the theory on dark magic and the basic dark spells that aren't currently illegal. Which reminds me, I need to ask Draco's father to lend me some more... advanced books on the subject. Hopefully practical ones.  
Finally, the social games of Slytherin have proved interesting, to say the least. I am indeed top of the ladder in First Year, but that still puts me below the upper years. That will be dealt with later. More immediately, Pansy and the other first-year blood supremecists have been much more docile, and mostly stay out of my way. Draco asked me what I did to her the first night, and I told him that I cursed her with a low level spell. I didn't tell him that it was a completely illegal dark compulsion spell that has made her rethink her political stance, and will eventual destroy her blood supremist ideals.  
No, I didn't mention that at all.

Flint, the Quidditch captain, seems rather skeptical when he meets me on the Quidditch pitch. He talks me through the basics of the game, which I already know, and then he hands me a school broom. I ignore it and pull out my own, a custom-made Nimbus 2000. I wink at him, and he slowly grins when he remembers that first-years aren't allowed their own broom unless they are part of the Quidditch team. But that didn't stop me buying this one.  
"So, Potter, what position would you play? If you're going for keeper, you'll have to be better than me." He leers crookedly at me.  
"No thanks, Flint. I wouldn't want to be keeper, not enough flying around. I'm going for seeker."  
He nods slowly. "Yeah, you're the right build for that, alright. Our seeker's average, but he's a fifth-year. You'll still have some trouble stealing his place." He tosses the golden snitch, a winged ball of madness, into the air, and it zooms away. I smirk, wink again, and shoot off into the sky.

An hour later, and Draco is boisterously bragging to anyone who will listen that I am the youngest seeker in a century. I let him - it never hurts to have someone else sing your praises, after all. And it is true - Marcus was astounded at my flying, as he should have been, and he offered me the position as soon as my feet touched ground. I agreed, obviously.  
Draco waltzes off down the corridor to find more people to brag too, and I find myself alone in a dark corner of the school. Feels like home.  
The fifth-year is supposed to have been told by Markus, but I haven't seen him yet. No sooner do I think this than a blond, skinny boy much taller than me storms over from nowhere. Jeremy Lestrange, I think his name is? He grabs hold of my robe, and I let him. It will be much more interesting than if I warn him now.  
"How dare you steal my position? Just because you're Harry bloody Potter! You have no right!" He sounds slightly hysterical. I am starting to become bored when he slaps me across the face, hard. Finally. As blood trickles down my face, I turn to face him, grinning menacingly.  
"Oh, you shouldn't have done that." I whisper softly. "But don't worry I won't take away your honour. Publicly." He backs up a little, uncertain. Suddenly, or to him at least, my wand is pressed into his neck. Just below the jugular.  
He gulps, and tries to step back. I follow, still pressing my wand to his neck. I laugh lowly, then slash my wand downwards. His clothes rip down one side of his body, and from that long cut they disintegrate outwards, leaving him stood in emerald green boxers in a matter of minutes. "Aw, they match my eyes." I coo dangerously.  
LeStrange is red and embarrassed, looking to be on the verge of tears. I chuckle again, darkly. Flourishing my wand, I point at his crotch. I begin to whisper menacingly. "Horreat colem... ceciderint pili..." Cold blue magic flows from my wand, weaving its way under and around the fabric. LeStrange gasps, and then bursts into tears. The bulge in his underwear shrinks, and the hair on his body starts to flake away. In a few seconds, LeStrange, the tall fifth-year boy, is left standing completely hairless apart from the hair on his head, his eyebrows, and his eyelashes. His reasonably large manhood, outlined by the fabric of his underwear, has shrunk to a few inches. I burst into a mad laughter, then flick my wand again. The sight of his mortified face disappearing into my trunk, summoned and opened non-verbally, threatens to push me over the edge. I hold back my laughter, shrink the trunk and throw it into my backpack.  
I'll let him go tomorrow morning, and no one will notice he was missing. But he won't for get tonight. No, I won't let the bastard forget. No one touches me.

**AN: Well... That... Escalated quickly :p And that wasn't even planned! Oh well, LeStrange deserved it. He was being an arsehole. Plus, Harry is a psychopath so I doubt he really gives a crap. Please review!**


	5. Year 1: Beauté Naturelle

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the support guys! Keep it up!**

**Warning: Sexual content ahead**

Beauté Naturelle

I stare cruelly down at the quivering boy. It is amusing, I think, to remember how only moments ago he was the oppressor. Now, the roles are reversed. And I imagine his suppression will be much more embarrassing, and painful. Hmmm... I'd forgotten how much I love torture. Perhaps one of the only things I love - possessiveness isn't really love, despite its similarities, I know, and although I care for my things I do not love them. I don't imagine Draco would be pleased if he knew I loved torture more than him; even if he only has a small crush, it would still hurt.

I won't tell him, of course. No sense damaging my things.

Once again, my thoughts drift back to torture, to the Dursleys...

* * *

_Dudley quivers, trembling on the ground in a ball of pain. I never take it out on Petunia or Vernon - it hurts them so much more to see their precious Duddykins in pain. I have never underestimated the powe of emotional pain, which might be one of the reasons I lack emotions. It is of no significance. Emotions are but a weakness to be exploited, and I know undoubtedly that if I were not so heartlessly cruel, the Dursleys would gladly crush my spirit._

_The thought sickens me - a weak, broken boy, hiding out in a cupboard under the stairs. That is what they would have done, if not for my power. I know it. They know it. And I relish in it, because it makes what I do even more enjoyable - I have nothing against evil of course, but righteous justice (even if torture is a bit extreme) is always so much more entertaining. Because, really, I have every right to do this. They would, if they had the power._

_Now, for example. Vernon just tried to force me into making his breakfast, and when I refused he hit me, hard, across the face. As he flew backwards into the wall, I thought that he really doesn't understand just how powerful I am. So Dudley is my example. He won't cross me again, if I have anything to say about it._

_I punctuate this thought with a burst of power, causing Dudley to scream silently in pain. I laugh quietly, and my auntie and uncle just stare. Good. I want them to watch. I twist the power inside me, allowing it to change, to deepen. I turn to Dudley again, and lock eyes with him. I decide that a little embarrassment is due. Dudley just started puberty - quite an early start, he's only ten, and he's been bragging about his pubic hair for weeks. How childish._

_I picture what I want to happen in my mind, and when he gasps a little I know it has worked. He looks like he is about to start crying tears, not just screaming, so I release him and he scurries to his room. I stare unblinking at my uncle for a moment, then turn to leave. As I walk through the door, I whisper some words to haunt him. "You did this." Psychological warfare is so fun._

_I climb the stairs quickly and gracefully, and I pass Dudley's bedroom on the way to mine. He's left the door open, idiot. He's laid on the bed, weighing it down slightly, naked. I can see the tear tracks on his face, and his smooth and hairless body. By the time Dudley starts puberty again, at fourteen, maybe Vernon will have learnt some respect._

* * *

A hushed moan from Jeremy awakens me, snapping me out of my reverie. Such happy memories. I smirk to myself, and Jeremy whimpers. I look down at him. He's really quite pathetic - a tall muscular boy, sat there completely smooth, wearing nothing but slytherin green boxershorts.

I stalk over to him, and he inches backwards.

"_Carnify_."

Jeremy writhes in pure pain - the spell I cast is not as bad as the cruciatus, but close, and almost as illegal. He twists and moans, his cries rising slowly. A small smile graces my lips. I vaguely wonder if I am a sadist. His moans rise and grow to a pain filled crescendo, and he arches his back off the floor. He looks quite the sight, truth be told. Beautiful in his pain.

Ending the curse, I pull him up off the ground and lock my lips over his. Small as I am, my magic dominates him and he submits to my mouth. My tongue darts lightly over his, fighting for dominance, but he doesn't challenge me. He is terrified, I can tell, but also aroused. I find myself in a similar situation. I've always wanted to kiss someone, but I was too young and it would raise suspicions, especially if it was a boy. But I always get what I want, in the end.

Jeremy moans throatily. The hair loss and *ahem* other thing was just to embarrass him, so he knew it was over. My toys need to submit to me; but I can't push them too hard or they'll break. I slash my wand and his underwear disappears. Jeremy pulls back, embarrassed at being naked. No doubt at being so small, too, thanks to me. He looks down, and I pull up his chin.

"Ah, that. I will give it back, but not your hair. You are still to be punished after all, and I like my toys smooth." He looks nervous, but obviously pleased at the sudden reprieval. I never intended to destroy him, of course - making him an enemy would just be annoying. It's illegal to kill him, and would be hard to cover up. So instead, he will be mine, and I will use him however I see fit.

I wave my wand and with a downwards jab his manhood returns to its original size. He looks at me in thanks, although I can tell he is still bitter about his hair. I kiss him wildly again, breaking his chain of thought, and he grunts. We battle for a few seconds, but he submits again. Perfect. I pull back, and raise my wand for the last time. "You are mine, Jeremy. Forever." He nods, like he expected it. Clever boy. My wand slashes downwards towards his heart, and a small mark appears above it. A lightning bolt, the same shape as my own scar, emblazoned onto his skin. The first marked follower, but not the last. He looks at it and smiles. I can see the loyalty charms are working, then. I designed the mark when I read of Voldemorts, but mine is much more sophisticated. Loyalty charms, a tracking charm, protection charms, a port key, and so on. All built in. So useful.

I smile absently, magick his clothes back, and he pulls them on gratefully. I stand, and he kneels. "Stand, Jeremy. Go back to your room. This never happened, and no one will ever know. But remember - you are mine." I smirk as he almost trips over himself leaving.

* * *

Since Jeremy, my standing in Slytherin has increased tenfold. None know the truth of course, not even my closest friends, but Jeremy has done his best to build up my reputation. After returning to the common room, I learnt that he had told his friends he was happy someone so skilled had taken his place, and he hasn't stopped singing my praises since. He still sits with his friends and acts like he did before of course, but he is still as loyal as I made him. I've rewarded his good work with a few chaste kisses when no one is watching, but nothing more. He is obviously desperate for my affection, but I am far too busy adjusting my schemes to gratify him. Yet.

Draco disrupts my thoughts by handing me a few books his father sent him, that he thinks I may find useful. As I look them over, I make a mental note that people keep doing that. Will I ever be able to finish a train of thought in this school? Draco has been supplying me with books on Darker subjects, courtesy of his father - it's hard to find useful instruction in the Hogwarts library, and my books from Flourish and Blotts only explain the magicks themselves, not how to perform them. Teaching how to defend from dark magic is one thing, but instructions on performing the darks arts are banned goods. That doesn't stop you from owning them, it just prevents the legal bookstores selling them.

Lucius, Draco's father, was only too happy to allow me access to his bookstore, and although I could owl him myself Draco insists on sending my requests personally. He is devoted to me already, and Blaise and Teddy close behind. Hermione seems to have figured out my preference for boys, but she is still grateful for that trick on the train and my sticking up for her, so I would say that she is perhaps the closest of my four friends. Not that I'd say that to Draco.

They are still chattering as we lounge on the sofas, so I delve into one of the books. This one in particular was sent as a suggestion by Lucius - a book on rituals, split into sections based on when you can perform them, what they do, and how old you should be when you do them. The first set of rituals are fairly basic, just simple blood protections for children and the like. Nothing that interests me. The next chapter, however, is designated pre-pubescent enhancement rituals. They offer things like a clearer mind, enhanced growth, and so on. One page catches my eye. A beauty ritual, to multiply and enhance your natural beauty and allow you to grow into it. I read the page over.

* * *

**Rituel de Beauté Naturelle  
The Ritual of Natural Beauty**

**The ritual of natural beauty enhances your own physical features, making them more prominent and subduing negative traits. Due to this, the effect of the ritual depends on the practitioner. An ugly practitioner will have no large use for this - it will not do anything dramatic, only weaken their most negative features, making them a little more bearable. The already beautiful, however, can expect a great change. Every positive physical aspect is enhanced by this ritual, in terms of appearance, so every good thing about the beautiful practitioner will only become moreso. The ritual will also smooth any flaws, leaving an almost perfect body for the beautiful practitioner.  
However, the risks of this ritual are great. Any flaw in the ritual will be magnified by the enhancing energies, and a poorly prepared practitioner can end up hideously deformed. It also requires a small amount of magical power to work correctly, and it is an expensive ritual, requiring 3 rare and valuable ingredients It is for this reason that very few attempt it.**

**To perform the ritual:**

**Crush a blood rose under a full moon, and scatter the petals over a reflecting pool.  
Bind a feather from a swan maiden with a sprig of mistletoe, then stir seven drops of your blood into the pool using the feather.  
Carve the symbol of Venus into the surface of a silver chalice, and drink of the pool.**

* * *

I frown. The ritual intrigues me, and I am yet to begin puberty so I can still perform the ritual. If needs be, I could delay my puberty. I doubt that will be necessary, but still. I frown because of the ingredients needed. I already own a reflecting pool of course - a carved silver dish that holds water, used as a mirror, or in rituals such as this. My blood, the mistletoe, and the chalice will be easy to come by as well. The symbol of Venus, adopted as the muggle symbol for women, is in fact the rune of beauty, and it is easy enough to draw.

But the blood rose and the feather trouble me. Blood roses grow only when fed human blood, and they are outlawed on that basis alone. I can probably find a vampire who will sell me one - they care not for the laws of the ministry, and they feed on human blood too. I'm sure I will be able to get a blood rose, but when?

The feather will be the most difficult, I fear. Swan maidens can transform into humans at will, and they protect their feathers viciously because, if a man could steal one, the swan maiden would become bound to him and be forced to obey his every wish. Thus, swan maiden feathers are extremely rare. I have no idea how I will procure one.

* * *

The blood rose was easier than I thought - Hogwarts itself grows some, because it has a permit to grow them for educational purposes. Stealing one was tedious - the wards around that greenhouse were extensive (in an effort to keep the more dangerous plants in, rather than intruders out) so it took me most of Monday night to break through them. Almost getting strangled by some Devil's Snare didn't exactly cheer me up, either.

The rose itself is exquisite, and I have been feeding it for a few days now. Draco and the others know, but they have yet to say anything. So loyal. Our friendships, as a side note, are coming along nicely - I have no doubt we will be known as the Silver Quintet in years to come, if we don't come up with a better name first. Hopefully we are able to between the five of us.

I lie back into my bed, pillows propping me up, and think. The feather is eluding me, and I dislike not having the answer. I think for a few minutes, and then finally decide to put in some effort. The strain of not knowing is torturing me. I peel back a mental shield, allowing some of my true ability to shine through, and focus on the task at hand. Teddy looks at me strangely, and I know he has noticed the difference. I only recently learned that his family ability is to see auras, and no doubt mine just flared. After a few seconds of thinking, I snap my shield back into place.

The Forbidden Forest!

Of course. All kinds of creatures roam in there, no doubt some swan maidens reside there. I make up my mind and stand, turning to leave the room. Blaise begins to follow, but I shake my head and my friends settle. They are used to my odd behaviour, mostly.

* * *

I found the swan maidens rather quickly - they are powerful beings, gifted with transfiguration, and their light powers shine like a beacon in this dark infested forest. All magic has a taste, a feel to it, for me, and I can distinguish different creatures from their magic, however distant. I merely followed my instincts here, and now I stand at the edge of a crystal clear pond. All kinds of light creatures flit across its surface - flying, swimming, some even walking on the water. I search the area for a few seconds, then spot a flock of pure white swans.

As I approach, they shift into beautiful women, all with similar looks. Long blonde hair, pale skin, red eyes. A human embodiment of the swan. The leader glides forward, and hisses at me. I smirk, amused at her antics. She knows I could steal her feathers, she is just trying to intimidate me away.

"What do you want, wizard? We know your kind, you cannot have our feathers!" She puffs up a little in indignation. "You can not hope to stand up to us all."

"I do not wish to steal your feathers, swan lady." I smile at her, showing my teeth. "But if I did, you would already be enslaved. Instead, I have come to ask for a single feather, given freely. You will not become my slave if I do not steal it, after all, and I could if I wanted to. Really, this is just a courtesy that I am not normally inclined to offer anyone. So please. Take it."

The woman huffs and looks incensed, but the fire in her eyes dulls a little as she considers my offer. "Very well." She transforms, and I pull a feather from her. She hisses at the short burst of pain. A second later, she is human once again. "Take the feather and leave."

I bow, and smile. Turning on my heel, I stride off into the forest.

* * *

Moonlight glistens brightly over the surface of the reflecting pool, refracting silvery light across the glade in which I stand. Luckily for me, the full moon is tonight, so I can perform the ritual right now. I do seem to have impeccable timing, don't I? I stand in a clearing in the Forbidden Forrest. It is actually the point at which multiple fey lines meet, which means the magic performed here will be intensified and purer. Purer as in stronger, not lighter.

The blood rose crumbles in my hands, like soft silk disintegrating between my finger tips. I carefully pluck the petals from the wreckage, and shower them down onto the reflecting pool. I vanish the remains. As the delicate petals hit the water, red magic ripples across the surface. The petals dissolve into the water, turning it a clouded, bloody red. Power ripples through the air.

It's addictive.

I take the pure white feather, and bind it tighter and tighter with the sprig of mistletoe. A white glow encircles the rod, showing that the bonding between the two ingredients has been achieved. Silver flashes across my vision, and pain shoots up my arm into my brain. I ignore it. Pain is beneath me, and I will not give in to its tortures. Seven drops of blood fall, and my wound seals itself as the blood satisfies the solution in the reflecting pool. The liquid becomes a solid red.

I stir slowly with the feather rod, and power rolls off the pool in waves. The mixture fades to a light pink with each stir and after seven stirs the magic is satisfied. I lift the chalice ceremoniously, already marked and prepared, and fill it from the basin. I raise the cup to my lips.

A warm pink glow fills my body as I drain the glass, and as the last drops slide down my throat, I crumple to the floor.

**AN: Getting some more action now guys! The first true follower, a ritual, and potential names for the Silver Quintuplet. Please, please, drop me a review. It's the lifeblood of the fic ;)**


	6. Year 1: Books

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the support, keep up the reviews please! I really need more suggestions, ideas, anything you got! Just even stupid things, leave a review please!**

Books

Pain wrecks my body, and I convulse wildly. My arms and legs spasm uncontrollably - limbs flying every which way - and in the midst of this panic I wonder if I prepared the ritual incorrectly. Perhaps the cup had to be carved by hand? Or in the moonlight? The pain makes it difficult to concentrate on such thoughts, and they slip away as quickly as they form.

I feel my skin burn and hiss, bubbling across my body like molten fire. The impurities - freckles, moles, even a cute birthmark - shrivel and wither away, leaving my skin flawlessly pale and creamy. The burning magic growls as it rebounds off my scar - one part of my body the ritual cannot heal. The soft, darkening hairs on my body burn away, leaving me smooth, and I feel a slight needling as my muscles develop and tone at an alarming rate. My hips widen slightly, and I gasp as I feel my arse swell and grow as my shoulders become less broad. I cry out in pain as my bones shift and crack, strengthening and changing. It is working.

The baby fat on my face melts away, falling back into my face and disappearing to who knows where. My cheekbones rise slightly, and my face becomes more angular and elegant. My lips, while they were larger than before, now swell and become full, pouting slightly. My eyes stand out, sparkling emerald orbs that deepen and soften at the same time. My hair grows at an alarming rate, straightening and falling into place like a puzzle piece. I scream as the transformation is complete, and black out.

* * *

Rustling in the undergrowth wakes me from a fitful sleep. My body was still adjusting to the changes, no doubt. Wincing as I stand, I wandlessly conjure a mirror. I have to catch my breath when I see myself. I look ten times better than I did before, even after my magical makeover. I guess I should give up any attempts not to stand out - the ritual has ruined that ruse.

I look much more feminine, with full, pink, pouty lips and luscious emerald green eyes set into my sleekly elegant face. My hair falls over one of my eyes, long and straight, and reaches down to the base of my neck at the back of my head. I look... ethereal.

My body is much girlies too, yet it exudes an aura of effortless strength. My physical strength hasn't changed much, but my body has, to match it. Perfectly toned muscles covered with flawless creamy skin, wide hips and a smooth stomach. I am not hot, not on fire. I am an ice cold beauty - cool, elegant, untouchable. Not handsome, in a masculine way. No, I am truly beautiful - I guess the ritual delivered on its promise. The beauty pleases me - it will make it easier for me to charm people, to get what I want, to distract them from my masks. Delicious.

* * *

Draco was once again gobsmacked, only this time he sat for several minutes in stunned silence before speaking. His actions seem to be recurring around the great hall. I smirk slightly, and Draco blushes. "How did you...?" He trails off, obviously at a loss.

"Magic." I whisper back, and he gives me a quick half-smile with an annoyed look. I wink back, and he blushes furiously once more. It's really too easy.  
Blaise and Teddy look just as interested in me, and although I can tell Hermione is attracted, she knows better by now. And she probably wants to study me, and make me reveal my secrets, but again she knows better than that. If I won't tell Draco, it isn't important or they don't need to know, and this is really both. The ritual was just a means to an end, and they don't need to know how or why I did it. Dumbledore looks like he wants to know too, actually.

* * *

People have been giving me second looks all day, and although the attention is gratifying it is also a bit unnerving. The price I have to pay, I think. I sigh to myself. Honestly - I went from aristocratic to drop dead gorgeous, and apparently that gives people the right to stare. I laugh lowly to myself at my own sarcasm.

Currently, I am sitting in Transfigurations class. McGonnagall is trying to teach the first years how to turn a matchbook into a real book, using a general transfiguration spell rather than a specific. Apparently, she has some faith in this class. I can see why - I'm in it, after all. She drones on about how you need to visualise and focus, and I zone it out. Why listen when you already have it memorised? Finally, she hands out the matchbooks and sits at her desk, asking that we give her our result at the end of lesson. I am bored, so I stare at the matchbook for a few seconds before I motivate myself to do the work. Once again, I decide to put a little effort into my work. Allowing a glimmer of power through, I focus on the matchbook and imagine it transforming.

I cast the spell with a flick of my wand. "_Permutatio_!"

I feel the magic tug at my imagination, and I focus a small portion of my energy dreaming up a mental copy of the standard book of spells. With my perfect memory, I create a perfect mental duplicate - every page, every last detail correct. You could have pulled it from my memory and it would be the exact same. Focusing on this, I push my magic through the wand and allow it to change the matchbook into my mental image.

Looking down at the result, I realise that this work is far better than McGonnagall expects. I try to change it to something simpler discreetly, but Hermione grabs it and let's out a small shriek.

"Harry! How did you do this? It's perfect, down to the last detail!" I grab at it, but McGonnagall has already noticed. I shoot a small glare at Hermione, and she flinches back a little, dropping the book. McGonnagall catches it in the air. Flicking through it, she looks more and more impressed. Oh great, I'm going to stand out even more. This plan is a failure.

"Mr. Potter, this is better than some of my fifth year students work! It's an exact copy - absolutely wonderful!" She peers down at me in amazement, before she gathers herself together. "Mr. Potter, would you stay behind after class?"

* * *

When class is finished I wait in the classroom, and McGonnagall turns to look at me. "Mr Potter, would you consider taking your OWL's early? It would be impossible for you to have this much skill in transfiguration without being far, far ahead in your other classes as well. I have heard reports from the other teachers that you are top of their class, yet they feel you are holding back. Even after seeing that show of skill, I feel you are too. So would you consider it?"

I think about it before nodding. It is time to drop the act - I've already revealed too much. "Yes please professor. But I wouldn't want to take them with the other years." I try my best to act shy.

"Of course not." She agrees. "That would be difficult and confusing both for you and other teachers. Instead, you can have private lessons - I'll put together a new schedule for you after you inform me of your electives." She pauses for a second, as if she is unsure of herself. "I know this my seem rushed Harry, but I've gotten reports of you being better than you seem. Rumours, little hints and clues... All I'm saying is this - this very rarely happens, and I don't want you to feel like I'm rushing your education, but I always knew you would be a special child. The whole wizarding world did, and you proved us right."

She beams at me and then hands me a list of electives, before ushering me out of the classroom and into the Great Hall. I walk over to the Slytherin table and sit by Blaise and Teddy.

"What happened?" Draco and Hermione ask at the same time - one looking worried and the other excited. I smirk at their emotions before answering in a cool, disinterested voice. "Oh nothing much. McGonagall's pushed my education forward, I'll be sitting my OWL's next year. The table around me gasps, and I almost giggle as the news spreads across the great hall. No secrets, here at Hogwarts.

"But Harry!" Hermione begins. "The last person to be pushed ahead was..."

"The headmaster himself." Snape cuts in, having glided up behind Hermione silently. She jumps at his voice. He continues on effortlessly. "I must admit Mr Potter, I didn't know you had it in you. Well done." In a lower voice, charmed so no one else can hear his voice or read his lips, he finishes. "I'm proud of you, Harry. Your mother would be too. I look forward to our private lessons."

He swirls off in a flurry of billowing robes. I wonder if he uses a charm to do that? Draco, Teddy and Blaise look at me in awe for a moment, before they join Hermione in questioning me on the change. I have no doubt everyone will know by the end of lunch, so I give them all the important information. I also hand Hermione the list of electives, which she reads over. She looks up, interested.

"Harry, I think McGonnagall is offering you some extra classes as well, since all your lessons are private. I mean, they don't normally teach Alchemy, MediMagic, Mental Magic, or Spell Creation! I'm so jealous!" She practically squeals in envy. I snatch the list back and read it over.

* * *

**Core Lessons:  
Astronomy - The study of the stars and the planets - Professor Sinistra  
Charms - The study of charms, enchantments, and animation - Professor Flitwick  
DADA (Defence Against the Dark Arts) - The study of protection - Professor Quirrel  
Herbology - The study of magical plants - Professor Sprout  
History of Magic - The study of magical history - Professor Binns  
Potions - The study of potionmaking - Professor Snape  
Transfiguration - The study of transfiguring in/animate objects - Professor McGonnagall**

**Electives:  
Ancient Runes - The study of ancient runes - Professor Vector  
Arithmancy - The study of magic through numbers - Professor Babbling  
Care of Magical Creatures - The study of magical creatures - Professor Kettleburn  
Divination - The study of prophecy - Professor Trelawney  
Muggle Studies - The study of muggle culture - Professor Quirrel**

**Added Extra Electives:  
Alchemy - The study of the art of alchemy - Headmaster Dumbledore  
Ancient Studies - The study of ancient magic - Headmaster Dumbledore  
MediMagic - The study of medical magic - Madame Pomfrey  
Mental Magic - The study of occlumency and legilimency - Professor Snape  
Spell Creation - The study of the art of spell creation - Assorted Teachers**

* * *

Wow. Well this is interesting. I fold the paper, and go back to my dinner. I will decide this later.

* * *

I sit once again on the black leather sofa, this time with Draco curled into my side. I rest an arm over him possessively. One would think we were already dating, if they didn't know better.

I return my attention back to the list. Draco snuggles in close so he can read it too. I allow the act of affection - it pleases me to know he wishes to be so near to me. I think carefully about the list - it is an important decision, and it merits at least an eighth of my attention. Maybe even a seventh.

I go down the list, tracing the words with my wand tip. The core lessons, I highlight all in green - it isn't like I have much choice. I focus on the electives. Supposedly, I am aloud to take a maximum of five, but I could always get a timeturner. Yes, I found the chapter on those in 'The Documentation of the Department of Mysteries' most intriguing. If it wasn't for the whole 'most wizards go insane if they see themselves, I am sure most people would have one.

The electives. Hm. I highlight Ancient Runes and Alchemy. They go together well, and they will be useful in the future. Care of Magical Creatures, I highlight again. Sure the class may be easy, but it is a great opportunity to learn more of the wizarding world and potentially collect some rare ingredients. Divination and Muggle Studies I cross off. I don't put much stock in prophecies, as they can be interpreted in so many different ways, and I already know more about muggles than I want to. Filthy creatures.

I decide to take all of the Added Extra Electives. They are all exceedingly useful, and rare opportunities, so I am disinclined to not give them a try. That brings the total list of classes up to... Fifteen. Seven core subjects, three electives, and five added extras. I should be needing a timeturner for that many classes, and I have no doubt McGonnagall will grant me the use of one. I am, after all, the wizarding worlds saviour. Even if I am a Slytherin. How could they ever deny me anything, if I ever really put my mind to asking for it?

I finish highlighting the list, and then I send it off to McGonnagall with a quick flick of my wrist. I pull Draco into my arms with a sarcastic smirk, and carry him back to our dorm room.

* * *

I tuck into the fruit with aplomb, enjoying the sickly, sweet flavour, as I read over my schedule at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore himself just delivered it to me, his eyes twinkling with pride and... amusement? Whatever. I have alchemy first, with him, in his office. That's probably why.

I am physically jerked out of my thought as a red headed ball of jealousy pulls hard on the back of my robe. I spin in my seat, twisting unnaturally, and I grit my teeth in pain. Bastard.

Ron pulls me from my seat, and the Great Hall looks on in shock to see what will happen. No one moves to help me - they are all either in shock, or want to see what I will do. The latter is mostly Slytherin's - they know there is something about me, my academic prowess, the way I dominate first year. I am tugged off the floor by my collar, and my face is full of sneering lips and freckles. I pull back, slightly irritated, and my magic pries Ron's fingers away from my collar.

I drop nimbly to the floor.

Ron bends down to grab me again, but I scoot out of the way. He lunges, and I move. This recurs a few times before I tire of the game and throw him into the air with a twist of my wand. He hangs in the air for a moment, before crashing down onto the floor. As he lies dazed on the ground, I weave a complicated spell around him.

He stands and walks forward. Just as he gets a meter away from his landing point, he walks face first into an invisible barrier. He pushes against it, then punches it, hard. Idiot. He yelps in pain, then pulls back. He tries to get around it a few times, then gives up and heads off back to his seat, ears red with embarrassment and anger. He only gets a meter away, and he once again meets an invisible barrier.

Half an hour later, breakfast ends, and Ron is still trapped in his invisible cage. He looks positively orange with embarrassment by now, and it is only as I drop the spell, leaving the hall, that I realise we never even spoke to each other through the whole thing.

**AN: A bit of a filler-ish chapter, but things are developing and changing. Please, please, pretty please, give me a review! Thanks so much for your support guys! Oh and by the way, yes, Quirrel taught Muggle Studies up until 1990. Charity Burbage began teaching it in 1993, in Harry's fourth? year.**


	7. Year 1: Battle

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the support guys! It really means a lot to me, and it helps me develop the plot for the fic. Please continue to review and favourite. And don't be shy to ask questions!**

Battle

Dumbledore's office really is amazing. Magical trinkets of all kinds wizz and bang around the room, puffs of multicoloured smoke flying every which way, with little to no regard for common sense. How does he get any work done in here, with such fanciful distractions?! I am sure they all serve a purpose - Dumbledore is too powerful to keep such nik-naks as keep-sakes for no good reason. I bet even the bowl of yellow sweets serves a special purpose. A wandless detection charm proves me right, although I didn't think that calming potion would be the secret ingredient. Maybe it's so he can keep up that grandfatherly air? Who knows.

Dumbledore himself sweeps into the room majestically, all calming aura and benevolent smiles, with that cheery twinkle in his eye. I play along, acting the part of the excited little boy who just loves learning about magic. I wonder if he even knows I'm wearing a mask - he certainly is. The signs are obvious to me, and I wonder if I am just extremely good or if Dumbledore has lost his touch. He must have been good at one point, to defeat Grindelwald, and he certainly still has the power, but perhaps his mental faculties are starting to shrivel? Old age has a price, after all.

I wave such silly thoughts away as he sits down cheerfully in his seat, offering me a sherbert lemon. I decline politely - I am already calm and I don't much care for the taste. He doesn't seem fazed by the rejection, and I get the distinct impression that only he ever actually eats the little yellow candies. I wonder if he continues to offer them out of politeness, or habit. Not particularly riveting thoughts, of course, but there you are. He looks at me for a second.

"So, Harry, my boy, Professor McGonnagall told me about the changes to your education. I must say, I'm impressed." He smiles kindly at me. "Of course, we all knew you would be something special, but I had no idea you possessed such power. If you don't mind, Harry, would you give me a demonstration?" He looks at me expectantly.

He obviously wants me to reveal the extent of my power to him - to show him how strong I am. Obviously, I'm not going to reveal it all. I'd probably scare him, or make him suspicious. So the question is, how much do I reveal? If I don't show him enough, he might push my education back. That wouldn't do, not at all. But too much, and he'll get suspicious. Start watching me even closer. Which would really put a damper on all my evil plans.

If I play this right, however, he will just think I'm gifted and eager to learn. So I'll put on a little show, put a little effort in, act like I'm trying really hard to impress him. And I will, of course, impress him, just not too much. I nod thoughtfully.

I raise my wand and pause, seemingly thinking up an impressive spell. I scrunch my face up, pretending to search through my memories. I swish my wand with a gentle flourish. "_Auro Sphaero_." A golden light flows down my body, bathing my features in a shimmering golden aura. Pure happiness bursts outwards in waves, and my face glows supernaturally with a small measure of golden beauty. Showy, yes, but it gets Dumbledore's attention. He obviously looks relieved I used such a light spell, and rather pleased at my power. No doubt he is thinking about how to turn me into his weapon against Voldemort. Like I will ever let that happen.

Dumbledore claps good-naturedly as the light show begins to fade. "Bravo, my boy, bravo! That was the best thing I've seen from a first year in years! Yes, you will be more than capable." He smiles, and his eyes twinkle happily. "Now, I'm afraid I must ask a few questions of you, Harry. First of all, how did you change your appearance so? I know only of a few ways." I hear the unspoken and they are all dark. I smile shyly down at the floor.

"Oh, sorry sir. I've always looked like this." He looks puzzled, so I continue. "I put a few glamours on when I learnt how to do them from my books, because back at my old school people were so jealous." I do my best to sound innocent and sweet. "But when I found out how nice the people are here, I let a few drop the next day. I waited a week, and people were nothing but nice, so I dropped them all." I twist my features into a worried, sad little look. "I... I didn't do something wrong, did I?"

I see Dumbledore's little heart crumble at my words. Fool. "No, no Harry, you didn't. I was just curious, and you did the right thing letting them drop. No one here at Hogwarts will bully you for looking good!" He chuckles. "In fact, you might even get a girlfriend out of it!" He smiles at me, and I almost scowl. I have no love for females.

Instead, I decide to again pull the shy, innocent card. I pull on the sad look again. "Oh, I don't care about that. I.. I don't care about girls." I manage to pull off a blush. Dumbledore smiles knowingly, the bastard. "Ah, I see. Well don't you worry about that, either, Harry. I'm sure that there are plenty of boys out there who'd love to go out with you." At my fake surprised look, he continues. "I know that being 'gay' isn't always accepted by muggles, but it is here in the wizarding world. So don't you worry." He smiles again. Ugh. I allow a small smile to grace my features.

"Oh, okay headmaster. So, are you going to teach me alchemy?" My face brightens at the thought.

"All in good time, all I'm good time. First, I need to give you this." He pulls a golden watch-like device out of his desk drawer. He holds it out to me, and I reach and take it from him. "Harry, that is a time turner. Do you know what they do?" I nod. Of course I do. "Okay, then I won't bother explaining how to use it or what it means for your timetable. But Harry, do be careful with that. Time travel is a tricky thing. Older wizards than you have succumbed to its whims."

Cheerful stuff. I wait for the headmaster to move onto Alchemy.

"So, on to Alchemy!"

* * *

Alchemy was very interesting, I have to admit. Dumbledore explained the theory, aims, philosophy, and so on. I drank up the knowledge - knowledge is power, and that was rare knowledge. We moved on to the basics, and I managed to upgrade a block of copper to a block of iron. Without any effort, of course. Dumbledore was impressed, and he looked excited for our next lesson. I guess he doesn't normally get the chance to teach. After Alchemy I had History of Magic, and I just set up a dictate-a-quill to record Binns droning. While he taught my quill about the second goblin war, I read up on the history that doesn't involve the cruel little creatures. I found the 'being' controversy rather interesting, for example.

Then I had double Herbology, at the same time as double Potions. Which was rather interesting, planting and harvesting the potion ingredients I was also using in another classroom, having already harvested them, turned back time, then began to brew. How... Interesting. I have decided to dedicate some time to studying the time-turners. When I get the chance. Which is whenever, really - I have infinite time on my hands. Literally.

Then lunch with my friends, and back to Dumbledore's office for a triple lesson of ancient studies, where we talked at length about the ancient astronomy of the Egyptians and how their enchantments derive from star charting. Like the temple of the living moon, accessible only to women, that will increase beauty and fertility if certain requirements are met. I found myself agreeing that such ancient arts, should they be rediscovered, could prove invaluable.

* * *

Finally, I find myself in the common room. I'm exhausted. Time turning really takes it out of you; I feel like I haven't slept for a full day. I'll have to set up a schedule - I could live two days for every one, or even three, if I could find somewhere to sleep and stay out of the other me's way during the day. Although I still need to investigate that. Bah. Sleep.

I pull myself into the common room, and catch Draco staring at me. I know he is curious, and I can see the crush on me in his eyes, but I am too tired to pursue him. I collapse into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

A week later, and the time turner is still in use. My experiments and research have turned up some interesting information, and I think I am ready to test it out. According to most literature on time-turners, most wizards cannot handle seeing themself, because the soul recognizes itself and collapses. However, I am not most wizards. And I have noticed that most wizards don't plan on meeting themselves, it is an accident, which makes them go into shock. That's what I think really happened with all those wizards and witches. So I came up with a plan to test it a few days ago, and I'm just about to carry it out. Right now, I'm sat here in an empty room waiting. I close my eyes for a few minutes, precisely at six o'clock, and then reopen them. There, in front of me, is a note.

**Test one, success.**

I smile, and pocket the note. Closing my eyes for another few minutes, I feel someone touch me, messing up my hair. I smirk. I know I don't like that! Damn future me. I open my eyes a few seconds later, and see a second note.

**Test two, success.**

I smile one again, pocket the note, and close my eyes. When I open them a few seconds later. I see me. Or me sees me. Or me sees I? This is confusing. I begin to laugh, and future me smirks. "I knew you would do that." I hand me a note.

**Test three, success.**

I smirk, and stand, once again pocketing the note. Future me stands with me, mirroring my movements. Curious, I circle myself like a hungry lion. Mm. I do look good. Even more curious, I walk back to face me. At the same time, we lean in. I wonder if our souls are communicating, or if future me just knew what to do. Future me smirks, obviously remembering what I'm thinking.

Bridging the final distance, I kiss myself softly, then hungrily. I pull away.  
"Weird." We both say, at the same time. I look down at my watch and realise that an hour has gone by rather quickly. "Got to go," I say. "Farewell." Me answers. I twist the turner, and go back an hour to relive this whole thing, from the other side.

* * *

After the experiment with the time turner, I continue to meet with Me to practice sparring, duelling, etc. I/Me/We train together, helping build each others skills, but it is disheartening because future me always wins. I guess because Me knows what I will do. Ah well, it's fun when I get to go be Me and beat I in the past from the future. And strangely, I just understood that.

I also use the time turner to get in a lot of extra reading, and I decide to bring myself up to date on wizarding culture. Every wizarding culture, with every tradition and ritual, every rite of passage. By the end of the month, I will be acting more pureblooded than Draco himself. I find a lot of things interesting, or outdated, yet I follow them nonetheless. Wizard courting, for example, is ridiculously old fashioned and hopelessly romantic. To put a fine point on it, the male, or dominant, in the relationship, has to prove themself worthy to the female, or submissive. To do this, they shower the other with gifts, promises and protection. Anything to win their heart.

Which of course, I will save for Draco - everyone else is just a toy, and it is the height of social suicide to court a partner you do not intend to marry. Can't be upsetting my followers, now can I? Wouldn't do at all.

* * *

Today is Halloween, and the feast really is something else. Giant pumpkins adorn the hall, singing songs and breathing balls of cool fire. That's Flitwick's handiwork, for sure, but he allowed me to help grow and decorate the pumpkins. You know, cut the faces, pick the candles, charm them different colours. That sort of thing. Despite myself, I actually enjoyed it. Not a bad lesson at all.

I am just talking to Blaise about the upcoming feast when I notice Hermione isn't sat with us.

"Blaise, where is Hermione." Blaise looks uncomfortable.

"Um... Well, Pansy started up again after you left our classes, just a little. But today in charms she started making fun of Hermione when she tried to help her with Wingardium Leviosa. She... Um... She ran off crying to the girls bathroom." Blaise looks even more nervous, but I turn away from him and glare at Pansy. She shrinks back under my gaze, and I vow to get revenge before I turn back to Blaise and Teddy. Draco is sat next to me, of course.

"We'll go get her after the feast. She'll need time to cry it out. Trust me." They smile slightly and nod a little. "But I am disappointed that you didn't tell me until I asked." They nod again.

Dumbledore makes a short, slightly insane speech, and we dig in to the food. Just as the desserts are due to arrive, Professor Quirrel bursts into the hall screaming about a troll in the dungeons. He swoons and faints, collapsing in a splay of limbs on the floor. Totally fake, he isn't even unconscious, but I can see Dumbledore's fallen for it. What an idiot - there's definitely something off about Quirrel, and how the hell would a troll even get in the castle?

The mindless children around me panic like wild animals, but Dumbledore silences them before they can damage my eardrums. I am just about to turn from the hall to go back to the common room, when I remember Hermione. God, stupid emotional girls!

I rush from the hall, knowing Draco and the others will follow. I burst into the bathroom just as a giant club smashes into the cubicles. There's Hermione, quivering in the wreckage. Blaise and Teddy run over to pull her out, while Draco starts shooting curses at the troll. Useless, since trolls are impervious to magic, but I am grateful regardless. I raise my wand too, and as the troll takes another swing I banish the club into its stomach.

The troll doubles over in pain, gasping for air. Ugly, stupid thing. I levitate the club over the trolls head, then transfigure it into a gleaming silver sword. Manipulating it with raw magic, I hack and slash at the trolls tough hide to distract it from the others. Finally, I tire of toying with it and I raise my hand, focusing energy on visualising the insides of the troll, like I was taught to in MediMagic. But instead of healing injuries, I explode its heart. The troll crumples to the ground.

Of course, I couldn't do that to a wizard. The natural magic they possess prevents harmful MediMagic.

But trolls aren't that lucky.

Just as I am stowing my wand back into my sleeve, I am attacked by a head of curly hair. Not again. Hermione's hugs are bone crushing, but I can live with them I guess. My sentimental musings are cut off when Hermione is pulled unceremoniously out of my arms. Stepping forwards and into my arms, where they immediately wrap around his waist, Draco leans up and presses his soft, pink lips to mine.

**AN: Squeee! Aaaaw, so adorable! Anyway, please, please, please, please, please, REVIEW Thanks guys!**


	8. Year 1: Base of Power

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Hey guys! 4000 views! Can't believe it, thanks so much. Thanks also for all the support and reviews, they really help and motivate me to write more. You guys are the best.**

**Don'tCallMeAnnie: Thank you for your review, it really got me motivated! Brought a huge smile to my face as well. As for why the chapters begin with B... Well, I have to have some Easter eggs, right? I was going to say just B-cause, but then I realised how awful that joke is.**

**FirebenderWhopper: First of all, thank you for reviewing even if it is to complain. At least you care enough to ;) Anyway, you made some valid points and I will explain them, but not here. Instead, you may find that some of your questions are already answered in this chapter.**

Base of Power

I blink. For the first time in a number of years, I feel shocked. Me, shocked! The very idea would have amused me to no end but a few minutes ago, and yet now, here I stand, shocked senseless. Oh, the irony. I bet the universe is laughing it's arse off right about now.

I realise Draco is kissing me, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I am in too much shock to comprehend it properly. I must say, I distinctly dislike the feeling of being flabbergasted. It is much too like a weakness to be a good thing. Thankfully, my instincts took over, and I wrapped my arms around him. So now I'm half hugging and kissing Draco.

My impulses urge me to return the kiss, so I do. Sweetly, and with great care, I kiss back, letting him know I approve. He pulls away rather suddenly, and immediately a blush tinges his cheeks. How positively adorable, the human part of my mind says. The other parts are screaming at me to either take what is mine or destroy the weakness. I find myself happily conflicted.

How odd.

Draco looks up into my eyes shyly, his eyes aglow with innocence and embarrassment. Sometimes I forget how young I actually am. I look back down at him tenderly, and smile. A smile that I reserve for my favourite possessions. It is akin to what normal people would call adoration, I suppose.

At the grumbling and whispering of the others, I pull away from Draco gently, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist possessively. He snuggles closer to my body, someone most un-Malfoy like. I truly must mean a great deal to him.  
"Well... That was interesting." Blaise makes an attempt at a joke, breaking the ice. I smile warmly at him, silently thanking him for avoiding an awkward situation.

I can see the recognition in his eyes.

"So, I guess you like me?" I ask Draco, looking down at him.

"Errr... Yeah." He splutters nervously.

"Eloquent." I smirk. "Good thing I like you too. But this probably shouldn't be a public thing just yet - we need to ascertain the sociopolitical ramifications first."  
Draco nods, slipping back into the Malfoy mask. "Agreed. It wouldn't do to lose our standing over this. And I will need to speak with my father - you are Harry Potter after all." He smiles and steps away from me. "Now, what do we do with this troll? I assume you killed it?"

Teddy and Blaise look interested too, and Hermione looks faintly queasy. "Of course." I smirk. "I blew up its heart with MediMagic." At the others scared looks, I tell them that it will only affect creatures without any natural magical protection.

Suddenly, the staff burst into the room. McGonnagall and some other teachers gasp at the sight of the troll - Dumbledore looks impressed, if a little worried. No doubt he thinks the emotional trauma could upset me. I doubt that will ever happen, especially over a troll.

"Mr Potter! What happened here?" McGonnagall addresses me - she is well aware I am the little leader of this social group, and she seems to be more comfortable speaking with me than other students anyway. "What did you do to the troll?"

I smile pleasantly at her, in an effort to calm her frayed nerves. "We came here to warn Hermione, who had been in here during the feast. When we got here, the troll was about to pulverise Hermione, so Blaise and Teddy pulled Hermione from the wreckage while Draco distracted the troll. Then, I forced its heart to explode using reverse MediMagic." I finish calmly.

McGonnagall looks at me in disbelief, as do some other teachers, before Professor Snape cuts in. "We'll done Mr Potter. Not only did you come to warn a fellow student, you rescued another Slytherin from imminent death. Fifty points to Slytherin, for you and your friends skill."

McGonnagall actually agrees with Snape for once, and Dumbledore just twinkles, like usual. Crafty bastard - who knows what those twinkles mean? As I am contemplating whether he charms them to do that, I notice Professor Snape subtly shifting his robes over his legs. A quick MediMagic scan informs me of a cut along his leg, ragged but shallow, that is coated with Cerberus saliva. Why was Professor Snape in a fight with a Cerberus?

* * *

Hermione has been even closer to me in the past few days, and she seems eternally grateful that I saved her life. I wonder if she realises she owes me a life debt. When I ask her about it as we sit alone in the Library, she looks at me strangely for a moment, before answering.

"Oh yeah, I know about it. But since you haven't asked for anything yet, I took it upon myself to honour the debt by being the best friend I can be." She smiles brightly, before adding "Although if you do want anything specific, I'm more than happy to oblige. That book on Pureblood culture explained a lot, and I realise what it means."

What it means is that Hermione is essentially my slave until she either does something I agree will pay off her debt or she saves my life. I already know what I want, of course. I turn towards her.

"Hermione, I know what I want in return for your life." She looks at me expectantly. "I, Harry James Potter, formally proclaim that in order for Hermione Jane Granger to pay her life debt I request an oath of loyalty from her. So mote it be." The air sizzles with the binding, red magic.

Hermione looks a little surprised, but she pulls her wand out nevertheless. I watch her with feigned disinterest. "I, Hermione Jane Granger, swear upon my magic to be entirely loyal to Harry James Potter. So mote it be." The air once again crackles, this time with ominous green power.

I look at her curiously. "Hermione, you do realise you just left one form of slavery to join a stronger slavery, don't you?" She sighs and looks at me with a small smile.

"Yes, Harry, I am well aware. But I know you have a hard time trusting anyone, and this was the best way for me to prove my worthiness to you. Because I know you won't abuse my loyalty, and I know you care for your possessions." Her lips quirk slightly. "I want to know more about you."

I smile at her. So she wants to know my secrets, huh? I cast a privacy charm or two.

* * *

"So you tortured your family? Even the kid?" Hermione looks slightly scared now.

"Yes." I sigh. "But only because they would have abused and destroyed me even further if I hadn't found my power. So yes, and I feel no regret. I am not against torture, Hermione, but I won't ever hurt you." I touch her face gently. "And I don't do it for no reason."

She nods, accepting my answer. She is an intelligent girl, after all. Logical,  
"Speaking of your power, just how powerful are you? I know you don't show your real power, only a fraction of it." I expected this to come up. I shrug.  
"Actually, I don't know. I have yet to find a spell I cannot do, but many I have not tried in an attempt to stay relatively normal. Yes I want to stand out, but I don't want to arouse suspicions."

She nods again. "Can you give me an example? What if you leak some of your aura?"

I think for a moment, before I relent and allow a portion of my aura free roam. Almost immediately, Hermione pulls back in awe, overwhelmed by the intensity of my darkness. It is seductive, I know.

"Wow. Just, wow." Hermione gasps, breathless, as I reel it back in. "And you were still holding back."

I nod. She looks lost in thought, but a few seconds later she questions me once more.

"Why do you even come to school? You're obviously powerful enough, couldn't you just learn from books and stuff?" She looks worried, like she has overstepped her boundaries.

"Because, Hermione, I am not here for an education." Noticing her confusion, I continue. "Yes, I will learn here at Hogwarts, and probably a bit better than I would at home. Hogwarts has a library full of rare and expensive books I am free to read, and there are other stashes of hidden knowledge throughout the school, most likely. And I will gain experience working on potions, and other lessons I couldn't really teach myself all too well. But I am here for three other reasons.

Firstly, I am here because I have no choice. I have no magical guardian as of yet who could homeschool me or allow me to school myself, as my magical guardian is Albus Dumledore. And I couldn't ask him to let me teach myself. Especially since I've only just met him since I came to Hogwarts! Without my guardians approval, I either come to Hogwarts, or I go abroad to another school. There are really no other choices.

Secondly, I am here to keep up appearances. If I went off to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, what would people think? No doubt many would be suspicious or annoyed, and it would just raise my profile even more. I can't be making enemies before I educate myself Hermione.

Thirdly, I am here to build a power base. Here at Hogwarts are the next generation of witches and wizards, and I could very well end up ruling them someday. So it only makes sense for me to attend, to build myself a base of supporters and followers."

Hermione nods, taking it all in. "But why do you need followers? What do you intend to be?"

She looks curious, not worried - eyes ablaze with eagerness assure me she will support me through whatever path I decide to follow, no matter what.  
"My dear Hermione, I intend to be the next Dark Lord."

* * *

After I told Hermione of my future plans, or at least most of them, I made her swear an oath of protection that would stop her from revealing my plans to anyone, even under Veritaserum or Legilimency. Of course, the oath was actually a dark ritual and I was sacrificing a muggle as she made it, but how was she to know that future me was standing behind her draining the lifeblood from a homeless man underneath the invisibility cloak? I did the same thing with LeStrange the next day - filling him in on some plans and having him make the oath. That time, I let him hold the knife.

I decided against marking Hermione - I plan to use that for slaves, or perhaps just my outer circle. My inner circle, or my possessions, will be mark free. That way, no one will be able to prove they are on my side, even if it doesn't exist yet, and they can get away scott free.

Genius, of course. Voldemort was clever, but a bit cliché.

LeStrange has been carrying on his work, spreading around positive rumours and subtly praising me throughout the school. Already, it is having an effect. Just a month and a half into the year, and the other three houses are much warmer towards me and my first-year friends. Not bad, LeStrange. Also, I commandeered control of the second-year Slytherin's last night. Eleanor Nott, youngest daughter of Lord Nott, reluctantly handed over control of second year to me at the request of Teddy, her brother. Her only request was that she was allowed control over the day to day running, a request that I had had no problems granting. Of course, the second years were a bit skeptical, but I was a little... forceful... and they soon accepted me.

So my power base was growing.

* * *

Draco and I's little undercover relationship is going fine, but, following pureblood custom, I'm not dating exclusively until I decided to court someone. And I know tha someone will be Draco, but until that time I'm not missing out on my chance to get some action before being bound to one person for eternity. Draco and Teddy are in on it too.

You know really, pureblood custom basically lets you whore yourself out until you pick someone to court, and no one even bats an eye. So long as you are discreet, no one cares if you kiss the whole planet before you find the one to produce your heir. It's really quite a utopia society.

So naturally, I intend to take advantage of it.

I've just finished Transfiguration with McGonnagall - where she is trying to help me perfect my detail control - and I'm currently on my way to lunch. Just as I'm about to turn the corner into the great hall, I hear Teddy's voice through a wall. Tracking the sound, I find him talking to Hermione in an empty classroom about an assignment. Hermione finishes explaining a principle to him as I enter the room, and she leaves the room, saying she'll meet us in the Great Hall. I turn my gaze towards Teddy.

He's attractive, with boyish charm, big blue eyes and soft sandy hair. I decide to have a little fun - even monsters with no emotions deserve release, right? "Hey Harry." Teddy looks nervous; he must see the predatory glint in my eye. Oh well, it doesn't matter. I like my prey a little shook up - adds some excitement to the hunt. I am insane; I've just realised.

Meh.

"Hey, Teddy" I almost purr his name, letting it drop sensually from my mouth. He gulps - how adorable. I stalk forward, and pull his smaller frame away from the desk. "You know, I never noticed how cute you are." I smirk. Another lie - I always knew just how cute he was. He smiles a little, and I see his eyes darken with lust. Kind of a weird expression on a 12 year old, but we Slytherin's are much more mature than our lighter counterparts. Really, I can see some of the fifth-year Gryffindors still struggling with their sexuality. How pathetic.

I pull him towards my body, gently, and wrap my arms around his waist. "I realised that I never thanked you for what you did with Eleanor. So, think of this as a thanks." I lean in towards him, and he to me. Our lips catch each others delicately, and I feel the silky smooth of his pouty lips on mine. Kissing slowly, his taste slips through my lips. Lavender. How unique. The kiss becomes a little harsher, and he opens his mouth hesitantly. I decide not to full on snog him - I don't think I'm ready for that yet, so I settle for open mouth. We pull apart hesitantly after a few seconds, and he smiles tentatively at me. I smirk back at him.

The next five minutes are fun, but he's hungry and I have to take care of my property.

* * *

It's the first Quidditch match of the season today, and Flint is freaking out. He seems even more obsessed than that nutjob Wood, which I didn't think was possible, but it apparently is. Of course, I would be amused, if I had emotions. In fact, I think I do feel amused. Well, that emotion isn't a weakness, is it? I'm not sure, which is in itself a weakness.

Madame Hooch talks us through all the rules, and shouts something about a 'good, clean match'. Like that's gonna happen - this is Snakes V. Lions, and all bets are off. I have a few tricks up my sleeve myself. But it's only natural - Flint has us all drilled with the technically legal, barely allowed dirty moves. So the match begins, and I fly along, musing to myself.

I start in Sector 1 - according to Flint's sector training - and scan downwards. Moving on, I search the pitch for the snitch. Well, that was an unfortunate rhyming coincidence. _Damn it_! Focus, Harry.

I catch sight of a golden blob about fifty minutes in, and I feint off in the other direction. As the Gryffindor seeker shoots off towards the stands, I pull a tight 180 and shoot off after the snitch.

I'm hot in pursuit when I feel a lurch below me. I shift to the right. I adjust and speed up again. I lurch to the left. This time, my broom begins to buck and jerk around, shaking me off.

A hex, I realise. And I don't know what hex it is, and my wand is strapped to my arm - which is holding onto the broom for dear life. I make a split second decision when the snitch flies underneath me, a glimpse of gold reflecting in the sunlight.

I let go of the broom.

The rush of wind is exhilarating. I actually... feel. Feel alive. It's intoxicating, actually. Is this what I've been missing out on? But as I fall, I focus my energy. Reaching out, the snitch is clasped tightly in my hand. How disconcerting for the snitch, I think idly - one minute flapping along, the next plummeting to the ground in the grasp of a pre-teen. The air whooshes past me, howling in my ears. I won't have time to draw my wand, so I cast wandlessly. "_Immobulus_!" I allow more power into the spell as I near the ground, a trickle at first growing to a flood. The effect is rather dramatic.

What the audience sees, I know, is me plummet to the ground. They must be surprised when my descent slows to a stop almost immediately, and they see me levitating a few feet from the ground.

I end the spell, and I hit the floor. I raise the snitch in triumph, and grin. I will need to find the hexer, of course, but the victory will help me in the end.

My base of power grows with each success.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Please review and favourite and follow! Feel free to leave a suggestion, and ask any questions you want :)**


	9. Year 1: Blackbridge & Blood

**The Emerald Prince: Year 1**

**AN: Thanks for the support guys, keep it up!**

Blackbridge & Blood

I'm conflicted.

Part of me is focused on completing the school year as best as I can, slowly building followers and knowledge, and maybe cultivating a few relationships as well. Stay out of trouble, increase my reputation, slow but steady.

The other part of me is bored.

I need something - Hogwarts holds little interest, and my time travel experiments have run dry for the moment. Yes, I'm making headway with my projects - my Occlumency and Legilimency are coming along, I'm halfway done developing living metal in Alchemy - but I need something big.

An adventure.

Which sounds ridiculously childish and, I dread to think it, Gryffindor, but it's true. A mind as powerful as mine can't stay content working steadily - I need excitement, a challenge. So I've decided to lay out a number of big projects, all neatly time framed and planned for, that I will have completed by the end of the year. Hopefully.

Firstly, I need to find out what exactly is going on in this blasted school. Snape refuses to tell me anything about the Cerberus, or even it's location. I have a fairly good idea where it is - we weren't banned from the third floor for nothing - but still! And the Quidditch incident, which people are still going me looks of awe over. Whoever hexed my broom is most likely linked to this mystery, and there are a number of people who've crossed my mind.

Secondly, I need to finish my rituals before this prepubescent body finally decides to develop. There are a number of interesting examples in that book Draco gave me, but I have requested a few more from Lucius himself. Hopefully some more powerful, darker examples will be revealed.

Thirdly, I need to start marking my followers. Sure, I have LeStrange. But that is just one boy. I dominate first and second year, so I could mark them all if I so wished, but I need to begin moving p the school. I hope to mark the seventh-years, so I will have some real world followers next year.

I have a few other, interesting, ideas, but they are less important. For example, I need to find out what that package I stole from Hagrid is. I haven't looked at it since the beginning of the year - I couldn't find a use for that blood-red stone then, and I still can't now. But that can wait.

* * *

My suspicions were correct. Fluffy, or so the Cerberus is called according to Hagrid, is currently residing in a cupboard on the third floor. Why? Well, he appears to be guarding something - the brute was stood on top of a giant trapdoor, which has me wondering where the trapdoor leads. I mean, surely if the trapdoor is on the third floor, then the thing it is guarding must be on the second or first, or the tunnel to it must lead through them. So what is the purpose of Fluffy?

Is this area sealed off from the rest of the second/first floor? If so, couldn't someone just blast through the walls to it? I understand that the walls of Hogwarts are heavily warded against magical attack, but they are still stone. A well placed pipe-bomb could easily blow up any given section of the castle - Dumbledore should really add protection against muggle warfare to the wards.  
Not that I intend to tell him about that weakness, of course - if the thing that three-headed mutt is guarding is worth stealing, I will of course be keeping it for myself. And if it is worth employing a Cerberus to protect it, it most likely is worth stealing.

So, naturally, I intend to steal whatever it is, probably after the winter break. I just need to find a way to get through the castle unseen - I could use a disillusionment charm, of course, but the headmaster can see through those, I've learnt, and no doubt some of the paintings are charmed to be able to as well. Wouldn't surprise me, sneaky old man. As it is, I managed to find out that Fluffy was there by pretending to get lost and 'accidentally' go into that locked cupboard on the third floor.

Oops.

Speaking of paintings, I recently learnt the art of producing one. I suppose Ancient Studies has its merits, after all. Dumbledore was only too happy to teach me something so interesting, and I found it fascinating. The paint is arranged on the canvas through a special charm that allows the caster's imagination to guide the design, and then the picture is imbued with animating magic.

I was interested to find that there are different 'classes' of paintings, or pictures. Some, like wizarding photographs, cannot speak or make sounds. They simply pose and act in the way that their subjects did as the image was captured, not actually possessing any real knowledge or personality. Others can speak, but they only contain a weak personality - no consciousness. Sure, they can tell you things their casters informed them, but they cannot learn, cannot live.

Finally, there are true images. True images contain a little bit of life force - the picture is imbued with the subjects blood, and this makes it a true portrait. As such, it is almost alive - it knows what the subject knows, can learn and live, almost. So they are the most expensive. And rare.

I found the subject captivating, and so I made a true portrait of myself, which I have hung in the library of my trunk. After a little advanced spellwork, I managed to make it so that portrait me can request a book from the library to read. Then, portrait me can actually read it, using a nifty spell that will turn the pages for him. It sounds simple, but it took me a number of days to develop it. I even put in a little effort! And yet, it is immensely useful. Portrait me can look up anything I need it to while I am busy, and since it can learn and pass on knowledge to me, it is an invaluable resource. Really, you would think that somebody else would have done it already!

* * *

I'm sat by the lake with Draco when it happens.

Me and Draco have become closer since tha Halloween kiss, despite the fact that our semi-relationship is supposed to be secret and despite my flings with the other Slytherin's. I suppose that now he's told me, and I've told him, he feels like this is the natural approach to an upcoming relationship. I suppose he's right. Which is why I allow him to get so close to me, not because I have feelings for him. Of course not! Perish the thought! No, that would be a weakness, and I do not have a weakness for Draco, I'm just possessive.

Or so I tell myself.

So I'm sat with Draco by the lake, snuggling up a bit but not too obviously, when Zack Blackbridge, the hulking blonde boy who is currently running third year Slytherin, stalks over. I can tell immediately that he's going to be a problem - malice and determination flow from his aura in waves, and I can sense the adrenalin running through his veins. He's prepared for a fight - anticipating one, even. Honestly, like I would resort to such muggle methods of defense - not when I can crush his head with a thought. But of course, he rules by intimidation, not cunning, so I wouldn't be surprised if he ignored what the first and second year students say, as well as Jeremy.

He probably thinks I tricked my way to the top.

Idiot.

"Potter. Malfoy." He spits out my name, obviously disgusted with my half-blood status. Oh, not another pureblood supremist - I wouldn't have a problem if he was actually stronger than me, but as it is I'm ahead of him in both education and magical power. He doesn't stand a chance, really.

"Blackbridge. Come to see when I'm taking over third year?" I taunt him, enjoying the anger that spreads across his face, brewing into outrage. His hand twitches towards his wand, stowed in his robe pocket. Moron, as if he could actually get to it in time.

"Of course not. I'm here to take over first and second - shouldn't be too hard with a weakling like you." He sneers. Draco looks a little riled, but a touch of my hand he replaces his annoyance with a cool mask of indifference.

"I'd like to see you try, Blackbridge. Filch would have fun cleaning you up off the floor." Draco smiles at Blackbridge. It isn't a nice smile, more of a leer. Blackbridge growls out something that sounds like 'We'll see about that.' (How cliché) then reaches for his wand.

Looking away in boredom, I click my fingers. My magic responds instantly, and Blackbridge's wand flies into my hand. Really too easy - he didn't even guard it against a simple summoning spell. I pocket the wand, then raise my fingers. Again, I click. Blackbridge falls to the floor in pain, his face swelling up and his legs collapsing beneath him. Combined curses are just the best, no?

A minute passes, and Draco somehow manages to sneak in a quick kiss before I release the spell. Damn that boy, he almost distracted me from the joys of torture! As his face returns to its normal size, Blackbridge kneels before me and submits. It's quite intoxicating really, holding so much power over someone else, even if he knows that I can't do anything too bad on school grounds. I raise my wand, flicked out of its holster in a second. He bows his head, and I carve a lightning bolt into his chest, as I did with LeStrange. He winces in pain, and I cast the glamour that will hide it from prying eyes as he does. He looks up into my eyes.

"You are mine, Blackbridge. Forever." I speak quietly, forcefully, echoing the words I said to Jeremy before. He looks away, and sniffs. He looks back again and nods slowly. At least the loyalty compulsion is working. I stand and walk past Blackbridge, tossing him his wand as I pass.

I know Draco will follow.

* * *

Blackbridge has mimicked LeStrange, and now I am in control of the first three years and Jeremy. With two marked followers already. Add one point to project three. With Blackbridge and Jeremy singing my praises, and my standing steadily rising in Slytherin, it doesn't surprise me that Ron is completely, 100% jealous and bitter. His loss.

What does surprise me is that I have attracted the attention of his brothers, Fred and George. Twins. I always wanted a twin, but then I feared that we would become rivals and I would kill him. Which is probably what would have happened, in the end. I'm just that sort of person.

I was on my way to dinner in the Great Hall when they stopped me, alone. Without saying a word, they grabbed hold of me and dragged me into an unused classroom. I let them of course, there is no way they could overpower me, even if I was wandless. Arrogant, maybe, but it's true.

They push me over to the desk, then one of them, Fred, turns and locks the door. I know it's him because he has a cute cluster of freckles on his nose that George doesn't - yes that may sound stalker-ish, but my memory never let's me forget these things when I notice them. George and Fred sit down on the desk, and I hoist myself up in between them. They turn as one towards me.

"Harry Potter, right?"

I nod.

"Okay, Harry, we have a-"

"Deal for you, of sorts. We don't like the way-"

"Dearest Brother Ronald has been treating you, so-"

"We're offering you the chance to get even."

They look at me expectantly. "And that means, what?"

"We're offering you-"

"The chance to join us-"

"In a prank of epic proportions."

I study them for a minute before answering. "I accept. And could you stop talking like that, it does my head in. Seriously, it's irritating to turn my neck back and forth between you two."

They blush.

"Sorry, old habit. So, onto the plan."

* * *

After speaking with Fred and George, I walk into the hall for dinner, five minutes after them. Instead of walking over to the Slytherin table, I turn to sit with the twins. They shuffle over to make room for me, and I am met with half thoughtful faces, half death glares. Ron being in the death glare category. He stares daggers at me, before almost yelling at his brothers.

"Why is he sitting here?! He's a death eater in training, a dark wizard! He's a Slytherin!" He almost shrieks the last part. The entirety of the Great Hall is staring at us now. Surreptitiously, I pull my wand from my pocket and cast a subtle enchantment on Ron.

He continues to shreek shrilly, like some kind of rodent.

"I can't believe this! You're my brothers, you traitors! You're supposed to be on my side!" Ron is really squeaking now. His hair seems to be growing longer too, and his face is changing shape. I wonder what's going on?

"And you! You're Harry Potter! How can you even stand to sit here, knowing you're a slimy Slytherin and a disgrace to the Wizarding World!?" He sounds ridiculously high-pitched now. He also seems to be shrinking rapidly, but he's in such a rage he doesn't notice. As he yells a particularly original insult about how my parents are rolling in their graves, fur starts to sprout all over his skin.  
He keeps getting shrilled and shrilled. He sounds just like a rodent. Like a ferret, even!

Ron notices something is wrong when he disappears into his robes. Seconds later, a red ferret peeks its head out of one of the sleeves. He tries to dart off across the table, but Fred pulls out the cage Ron keeps his rat in and, with a deft flick of his wrist, catches the ferret and stuffs it inside. He slams the cage door and locks it, before running off with his brother.

Now I wonder what happened to Ron?

* * *

As Draco and Teddy discuss their Transfiguration homework, I smirk inwardly. The prank with Ron went so much better than I thought it would . McGonnagall yelled at me in the hall, of course, but when I pointed out that since she couldn't prove it was me, only that Ron had spontaneously transfigured into a ferret, she couldn't do anything about it. She glared at me for a few minutes before her lips turned up a little - if I didn't know any better, I swear I would've thought she was smiling. Maybe even McGonnagall has a soft spot for pranks.

Fred and George had had some points docked for trapping their brother in a cage, but since they couldn't turn him back and they were 'stopping him from running away and getting lost', McGonnagall hadn't really done anything all that bad. She changed him back of course, a shame really, but it took her a good half hour and Ron had gotten quite used to his new form by then.

Even now, he still twitches happily when I stroke him behind the ears.

Surprising it may seem, but Ron actually has some respect for me now. I thought it would have made him even more maniacal, but in fact he seems to have some sort of love of pranks. Even if it was one on him. So I have gained another follower, surprisingly enough, in one of my previous annoyances. Life's strange, I think. Very odd, indeed.

Thinking about it, perhaps Ron is a little more than a follower. I mean, I have LeStrange and Blackbridge as dedicated yet terrified 'followers' - they're little more than slaves, really. But Ron has developed an affection for me, and now that he isn't such an arse I confess I find his company amusing. Especially when he curls up and purrs at my touches.  
Maybe being a ferret for a while did him some good.

But that's beside the point. I still need more followers, more rituals, and a way to get through the school unseen, even by the portraits or Dumbledore himself. No luck on the first or last, but I've found another few rituals and I think I've found a way to combine them, too.

Firstly, there's the ritual of sight.

* * *

**Rituel de la Vue  
The ritual of sight**

**The ritual of sight magically enhances the sight of the practitioner - not their ability to see physically, but giving them the gift of magical sight. Magical sight allows the bearer to 'see' magical auras, cores, and other aspects of magic including wards and enchantments. The ability can be deactivated when not needed, however most use the ability constantly as it is exceedingly useful. Take care when performing this ritual, however, as it is extremely powerful and expensive. This is a grade 5 dark ritual.**

**To perform the ritual:**

**Carve the eye of Ra into the centre of a pentagram.  
Place at the northern-most point of the star a magical creature with the ability of natural sight, either a Cyclope, Mermaid, or Centaur. A Basilisk can be used, however it is highly dangerous and will cause the practitioner to become hideously ugly and snake-like.  
While channeling the light power of Ra, sacrifice the creature. The dark and light magicks will mix, and the gift will be bestowed upon you.**

* * *

That ritual is interesting, and no doubt useful, however it only adds a sense - it doesn't improve any of the ones I already possess. For that, there is the ritual of sense.

* * *

**Rituel de Sens  
The ritual of sense**

**The ritual of sense is a very dark, powerful ritual that enhances each of the five senses through unwilling sacrifice. Each of the senses will be enhanced, but to what extent depends on the practitioner - their power, their intent, and their wishes. As a dark ritual the ritual of sense feeds on negative emotion, so it is crucial that the sacrifices are unwilling and the practitioner does not feel any guilt or remorse. This is a grade 3 dark ritual.**

**To perform the ritual:**

**Draw a pentagon with your blood.  
At each of the points of the star, place a creature with the enhancements you desire.**

**The northern point must be a sight creature.  
The south-east must be a sound creature, and the south-west a smell creature.  
These three senses create the pinnacle of the ritual.  
The east point must be a taste creature, and the west a touch creature.  
These two senses supply the support and stability for the ritual, and as such they must be conflicting - light and dark creatures.**

**After placing each creature, sacrifice each in the order shown here, while channeling the dark power of Nyx.  
When they are all dead, cut your palms and press them to the ground, to blood-bond with them in their death, absorbing their powers.**

* * *

Admittedly, that ritual is exceedingly darker than anything I have read as of yet, but I do not believe it will cause me much trouble. The headmaster has no sway or spies in the forest, and the ley lines will provide added power to the ritual. I can merge these two rituals, no doubt, by using the creature of magical sight for the northern point in the ritual of sense, and invoking Ra and Nyx with both their symbols and by channelling their energies. The two magicks should balance the ritual more and make it slightly more powerful, too.

* * *

I stand here in the clearing once again, the pentagram already drawn. My blood is spread neatly across the grass, forming an intricate pentagram. I have already carved the eye of Ra and the symbol of Nyx, a star in a crescent moon, inside the eye's pupil. I filled the carved lines with my blood, in an attempt to empower the ritual. I don't know if it will work, but it's worth a shot. I only get one chance at this ritual, after all, and I want it to be perfect.

I had little trouble gathering the sacrifices - their deaths mean nothing to me, and they were easy enough to capture inside the forest. Although I was rather proud of myself when I managed to kidnap the mermaid from the lake without anyone noticing. That took planning, skill and a few notice-me-not charms, but it was worth it. Keeping the mermaid at the pentagon point provided me with a small challenge, but I soon solved it by carving out a deep, narrow hole at the northern point and filling it with water, and my blood. Now that the mermaid is in there, she won't be able to escape - there are no connecting waterways out of the hole, and it is barely big enough for her as it is; she can't move and mess up the ritual this way.

For the sound and smell creatures, I chose a mai and a werewolf. The mai, half wild-cat half human, has an sharpened hearing - as well as night vision, which hopefully will be contributed as an extra skill. The werewolf, half wolf half human, has an acute sense of smell, and it should balance the feline mai with its canine wolf perfectly. As an added bonus, all three of the pinnacle sense are represented by humanoids, which means that the power of the ritual will receive a huge boost.

For taste and touch, the balance and support senses, I was forced to pick a light and dark creature. For taste, I chose vampire. They have heightened senses anyway, but their blood thirst has developed their taste buds immensely. While I hope the ritual won't make me bloodthirsty, there is no guarantee and it wouldn't bother me too much. And the vampire is undoubtedly a dark creature, perfect for the ritual. For touch, I chose an elf. True, light elves are highly sensitive to magic, so much they can feel it, and that ties in with the ritual of sight nicely. Plus, they are light creatures and humanoid, which makes the entire pentagram humanoid and sentient. Which will make the sacrifices no less easy for me, but much more powerful for the ritual. They are all bound and trapped in the correct places, so it is time for me to begin the ritual.

It is now midnight, and the full moon shines down brightly. The werewolf is thrashing madly, desperate to be free on its night of transformation, but I begin the ritual regardless. I turn first to the mermaid.

She lies in the pool, unbound, long red hair flowing freely down her pale skin. Such a pretty mermaid, not one of the horribly ugly selkies they share the lake with. I made sure to pick a good one, of course. She doesn't need to be bound, since there is no way for her to escape, and she looks absolutely terrified. Oh well. I put her out of her misery with a well aimed _diffindo_ to the throat.

She slumps forward, blood leaking into the pentagram.

The mai is next. Soft reddish brown fur covers her body, and she hisses at me with anger when I face her. Defiant, even in destruction. I cannot help but admire cats - they remind me of myself all too much. Perhaps when this is over I will go and get one, or even find another mai or a neko. Couldn't hurt. "_Diffindo_." The defiance suddenly falls from her, as does her blood.

The werewolf too is female, not that I can really tell in her transformation. She is writhing viciously, and I spell her into stillness to make her death easier. Pale white fur sticks out straight, in disarray, and she looks like a vicious, over grown teddy bear. You know, minus the teeth and claws. Another _diffindo_, and the pinnacle is complete.

The vampire, a tall pale man with dark hair and harsh red eyes, dies next. His black, undead blood seeps into the pentagram, staining the lines with a darker colour. The elf, tanned with sandy blonde hair and small pointed ears collapses to the ground, almost white blood returning the pentagram to its normal colour. It is done. They are dead, and the ritual is almost complete.

I feel no remorse, obviously. Or guilt, or regret. This will be useful to me, and if a handful of magical creatures died along the way who is there to care? They won't be missed, and I am the only one who might feel guilty. So really, their deaths were necessary to help me on the way to changing this godforsaken world into an image that pleases me more.

As my blood merges and absorbs the mixed blood of the pentagram, I feel power flowing from it, through the cuts on my palms and into my body. The world sharpens around me, and I feel the thrum of magic, before the exhaustion and exertion of the influx pulls me under once again.

**AN: Back onto the darker stuff, kiddies! Enjoy it, revel in the bloodshed ;) Please review, it's like blood to a vampire for me!**


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